


Forged in Hell

by SKT67



Series: Forged in Hell [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean and the Reader are star-crossed as heck, Drinking, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Mark of Cain (Supernatural), My First Smut, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Drug Use, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Torture, Psychological Torture, Reader-Insert, Reader/Dean Winchester flirting, Slow Burn, Smut, Torture, help this is my first fanfic I'm terrible at tags, memories of hell, reader has a mysterious backstory, reader is a badass, the sexual tension between Dean and Reader is painful, who knows how many more tags I'm gonna have to add
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-01-23 18:53:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 79
Words: 307,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21324991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SKT67/pseuds/SKT67
Summary: Reader is a hunter who has hunted alone all her life. One night on a hunt, she runs into the Winchester brothers at a bar. She and Dean have a connection unlike anything she has ever known. But, will he even remember her? And does she really even want him to?
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/You
Series: Forged in Hell [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1537363
Comments: 750
Kudos: 437





	1. You Seriously Don't Remember Me?

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY so this is my first fan fiction ever. I've literally never written anything like this in my life and I have some ideas but I'm really not sure where I am taking it. (If anywhere). I just love the show and wanted to play around with it. It's possible that this could get really dark because I love angst especially when it comes to the boys so be prepared for that going in! I have a feeling if I do continue with this it's going to be really long too, so strap in. If you're reading, thanks so much, I hope it doesn't suck, and enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set around Season 9, it's definitely not all going to follow the timeline perfectly but there are certain plot points I also definitely do want to use for the story.

You are seated at a stool at the closest dive bar to your motel room. Close enough that you could walk – meaning you could get drunk if you wanted to. And with the way this hunt has been going – you want to. You’ve been in Missouri for almost a week now, and still haven’t been able to pin down the location of the vamp nest that’s been taking out young men and women from the local college. After talking with the police, it was clear they believed the school was the only thing they had in common. Despite trying desperately to find another lead, you had come to the conclusion that you would just have to mingle at the local college bars and talk with ACTUAL college students to see if you could get any more information on the vics. You were hoping to bypass that step and skip right to finding the nest , you weren’t exactly partial to the idea of mingling with frat boys and sorority girls – or mingling with anyone for that matter - but it was becoming clear that was your only option. But, not tonight. Tonight, you would get drunk on your own in this dive bar and tomorrow you would face the frat boys and sorority sisters for the sake of the victims.

You smile at the bartender as he makes his way over to you. You order a Captain and Coke – heavy on the Captain – and pull out your phone to check the time. 11:00. You were expecting the place to be a little more dead than this on a Tuesday night, but the crowd isn’t too bad. Glancing around the room, you see a few older women at one table, clearly tipsy and gossiping loudly. 

‘Maybe Tuesday is ladies night’, you think to yourself with a smirk. A few older gentlemen crowd the pool table. You can tell, even from your seat across the room, that they will be easy to beat. You make a mental note to have a couple more drinks and make your way over to hustle them if they’re still there in half an hour. At the other end of the bar, there are a few young men – around your age – taking shots and downing beer. You’ve caught them glancing your way a few times already, but you don’t think much of it. You may be the only female under 40 in the bar, but you aren’t exactly dressed to impress. You’re wearing your black skinny jeans with slits at the knee, your loosely laced and very scuffed Doc Martens, and a white tank top. Your black leather jacket was slung over the back of your seat when you sat down. Not much of a palette, but hey, black is your color.

The bartender brings over your drink and you smile and thank him. As you hand him your cash, a large pair of elbows leans on the counter next to you and a deep voice follows behind, “Hey barkeep, can I get a whiskey neat and a beer?”

You recognize the voice instantly and it turns your blood to ice in your veins. Your hand clenches your glass to point you think it might shatter right there in your hand. You keep your eyes glued to a specific ice cube, watching it float around slowly and trying desperately to keep your composure.

You hold your breath as the large mass next to you tilts his head in your direction and watches you intently. You silently will him to go away, hoping the sheer tension in the air will be enough to send your message. But, to no avail.

“You okay there, Sweetheart?” the gruff but gentle voice sounds next to you. You race through your options in your head. You could run. It would be awkward and embarrassing but you’d be away from him in seconds and it would all be over. But, the anger boiling within you tells you that you can’t do that. You could hit him. He’d never see it coming. One swift right hook might be enough to make you feel just a little better. But he could duck it – he has the reflexes. Or someone may call the cops. That’s the last thing you need while you’re trying to finish this hunt. Fine. Stay it is. Play it cool. Let him figure out who you are. You had to admit, it would give you a sick pleasure to see the shock wash over his face once he really saw you. You relax your shoulders, bring your drink up to your lips, take a long sip, and turn to face him.

“Just peachy,” you state with the shrug of one shoulder.

When you finally look over his face and study his features, it’s you who feels the shock. That face. That face that was crafted by Heaven, yet you only knew in Hell. That face whose beauty was always in such stark contrast with the ugly horror of your cell. The face that often had blood spattered all over it – your blood. The face that tortured you in Hell for years before he suddenly disappeared. The face you were sure you would never see again.

And yet here he is. Your breath hitches in your throat as you look at him, and you wait for his realization. A realization that doesn’t come. Instead, his bright eyes and thick eyelashes flick up and down your body quickly, landing back on your face. His plump lips curl into a smirk as he drawls, 

“Peachy, huh? Then what are you doin’ hangin’ at this bar and drinkin’ hard liquor all alone? You are far too gorgeous for that.”

He’s flirting with you. He’s checking you out. He doesn’t remember. All the things he’s done to you, put you through. And he doesn’t remember. Anger bubbles in your chest. You finish your drink in a single gulp, slam it down on the counter, and lean forward, merely inches from his now confused face, and growl out, 

“You seriously don’t remember me, Dean?”

His eyes widen and he leans back, swallowing hard and looking you over once again. 

“Uhh… I uh, I mean…” he stutters, “Y’know with work I travel a lot, so… It’s just, it’s hard to keep track of…” He looks down and clears his throat.

Oh, great. He thinks you hooked up. Somehow, that pisses you off more. You have to get away from him. You stand up, grab your jacket, and turn to leave. He reaches out quickly and grabs your forearm, turning you towards him, 

“Hey wait, please. Look… I’m sorry. These past few years, things have been crazy. Hell, crazy is an understatement. Not that it’s any excuse but, I just – please don’t take it personally. I don’t even know what I’m saying I just, I… I’m sorry.” He finishes, defeated.

This is the first time your Y/E/C eyes truly connect with his bright green ones. In all your anger, you hadn’t truly looked into them until now. And for some reason, your anger subsides. Not completely, but enough. Looking into his eyes, you can see all of his pain all at once. You can see he’s genuine. A part of you always knew that, even in Hell. No matter what his mouth said or his hands did, his eyes never lied to you. They always held a kindness that, at least you told yourself, was him trying to communicate that he didn’t mean what he did. That everything would be okay. You had forgotten how much of a comfort his eyes were to you until right this second. Despite that, you should hate him. You know you should. But you can’t, and you don’t know why.

You soften. Pulling your arm away gently, you almost chuckle, 

“Dean… we’ve never had sex.”

Relief, and more confusion, wash over him as he stands up just a little straighter and relaxes his shoulders.

You continue, “I’m a hunter. We’ve crossed paths, but it must have been years ago. Just thought you’d remember. Name’s Y/N.” You know it’s not a very good explanation, but you’re hoping he will just take it for what it is to avoid further embarrassment.

And it works. He doesn’t pretend he suddenly recognizes you, which you’re grateful for, but he does smile and chuckle slightly. He tilts his head towards a booth with a shaggy-haired, and also handsome, guy with a laptop sitting at it, and asks, “Join us? I’ll buy you another drink so you can chug that in one go too.” He winks.

You laugh, “Deal.”

He hands you your drink and you follow him to the booth. Lost in whatever he’s doing on his laptop, the shaggy-haired guy is snapped out of it when Dean places his beer in front of him, and he looks up at you in surprise and interest.

“Sam, this is Y/N. She’s a hunter. Y/N, my little brother Sammy.” Sam smiles and reaches his hand out to you, “Hey, nice to meet you, Y/N.” You shake his hand and scoot into the booth across from him, as Dean sits down next to him.

“Nice to meet you too, Sam.”

Thankfully, Dean doesn’t mention the awkward encounter at the bar. You break the brief silence.

“So, you guys here about the vamps?”

“Yeah”, Sam answers, “just got in tonight. We got nothing so far. You?”

“Been here almost a week. All the vics are young college students, all went to the same college. Other than that, nothing. No idea where the nest is or who the vamps are. I was planning on going to the college tomorrow, meet some of the students and go to the bars to get some more info about the victims.

Sam nods in agreement as he sips his beer, “Good idea. Maybe… we could join you?”

You hesitate for a second. You’ve never hunted with anyone else before. Well, besides your dad, but you were only 10 so that really didn’t really count. “Sure.”  
Dean is quiet during this whole conversation. Sipping his whiskey, staring at you, as if he’s trying to memorize your face. As if he is trying so hard to remember where he knows you from.

In the silence, even Sam starts to notice Dean’s staring. “Dude”, he laughs, “You’re being weird. You alright?”

This breaks Dean out of his trance. He clears his throat, finishes his drink, and grins. “Yeah, yeah. College kids. Gonna go talk to ‘em. You know me Sam, any chance to talk to some Sorority girls!” He slaps his brother’s back and stands, heading to the bar to no doubt order another round.

You hang with the boys for another hour. You hustle the older gentlemen in pool as you planned, make 500 bucks (100 from each of them), and swagger back to the table. The boys look impressed and you smirk at them. You feel Dean’s gaze boring into you, the heat of the whiskey in his system going straight to his eyes. You’re a little drunk too, and you return his gaze.

This is fucked up, right? He TORTURED you. In Hell. And here you are, hanging out, getting drunk with him and his brother. Checking him out as he checks you out. It’s wrong, but you can’t help it. There’s a connection here that you absolutely do not understand. You can’t stop looking at him. The way his short, dirty-blonde hair spikes up off of his freckled face. The way his full lips pout and the way he occasionally runs his tongue over them absentmindedly. They way his tight black t-shirt hugs his muscles under his red flannel. Those bow legs in those jeans every time he walks to the bar. And his eyes. So god damn green. If it wasn’t for Hell, you’d be following your every instinct to flirt with him. Hell, to at least talk to him. Instead, you’ve fallen into a pattern of checking each other out, listening to Sam talk, and managing to hardly speak to each other all night.

As you each finish your drinks, you come to the realization that you’re staying in the same motel. The boys offer to give you a lift back, and you accept. Sam runs to the bathroom and you and Dean make your way out to the car. Which is gorgeous. 

“She’s pretty”, you hum, leaning against her in the cool night air.

“Yeah…” Dean suddenly moves toward you until he is standing merely inches in front of you, so close that you press your back all the way against the Impala. His hands are on either side of you, resting against the hood of the car and allowing him to lean in close. You briefly notice a bright red, oddly-shaped mark on his forearm, but your attention is quickly drawn back to his face as he continues to get closer.

He looks you up and down, uses his tongue to pull his bottom lip up in between his teeth, and leans his face down so that his lips are nearly brushing against yours, “She is.”

You want so badly to close the distance, to lean forward and taste those lips that smell of whiskey and honey at the same time, but you don’t. You know deep down that you can’t, not when you know everything he’s done to you. But more importantly, because he DOESN’T know everything he’s done to you. It almost feels like you’re fooling him. You bite your bottom lip and pull your face away, looking up at him, searching his eyes.

“You don’t remember”, you whisper, the sadness and pain evident in your voice. With that, you open the back door of the car and slide yourself in. He stands there for a moment longer, just staring off in to the distance, jaw clenching, looking as if he KNOWS he should remember, but can’t. Sam comes out of the bar and the two get in to the front of the Impala without a word. You drive the short distance to the motel in silence and Dean pulls up right next to your old black Ford Ranger.

You lean forward just a little, “So, meet you guys out here at 11?” Dean doesn’t move, still white knuckling the steering wheel. Sam turns to you and smiles, “Sounds good, Y/N.”

You smile and pat him on the shoulder. You glance in the rearview mirror and connect with Dean’s eyes staring at you almost apologetically, before you say “Night boys”, and open the car door. You walk up to the door of your room, unlock it, and step in, quickly closing the door behind you and flicking the light on.

You sigh deeply and lean your head back against the door, squeezing your eyes shut. You’re so conflicted. Despite everything going on with Dean, that’s the most real human contact you’ve had with anyone since you can remember. Short of random one night stands, which honestly never have much real conversation. You don’t let people in. Not with everything you’ve been through. Not even for a night. And here you are. Connecting with them. Hell, even enjoying their company. And Dean…

No. This is way out of your comfort zone. You’ll finish the hunt with them, only because you’ve heard they’re good at what they do and because you aren’t sure you can suffer through another week at this motel and just want this hunt to be over. Then, you’ll part ways. Back on your own. It’ll be better that way. It always is.

You pull off your boots and jeans and crawl into bed, too lazy and buzzed to do anything more. You close your eyes and drift off. That night, for the first time in a while, you have nightmares of Hell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader agrees to share the hunt with the boys, and they all start to learn more about each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, prepare yourself for this to potentially get really dark at times. Not quite yet, but eventually. Also, there is a general theme of monsters, demons, human males, etc being generally creepy and disgusting, especially towards the reader. Don't worry, she can handle it. She's a bad ass.

(Dean POV)  
That night, for the first time in a while, he has nightmares of Hell. He doesn’t know why, but all he knows is that he woke up in a cold sweat, heart pounding, confused. And that he can’t he stop thinking about you. He knows that he knows you. That face, that skin, that Y/H/C hair, those lips and those eyes. He knows you. How the fuck does he know you?

Eventually Sam wakes up too, and they shower and change, and walk out of their motel room just as you’re walking out of yours. You’re wearing a tight black tank top, ripped denim jeans, and your boots. Your hair is shimmering in the sunlight. You’re wearing your favorite sunglasses and rings all over your fingers, which are coated with black nail polish. He drinks in every little detail of you, and he isn’t sure if it’s because he thinks it might help him remember who you are or if it’s because he just couldn’t look away from you if he tried.

Your long legs stride up to them. “Ready to get this over with?”

Sam chuckles, “What, you’re not excited to hang out with all the college kids?”

“College kids aren’t really my thing.”

Dean laughs as he slaps a large hand on Sam’s shoulder, “Watch out – Sam here is a college kid – a STANFORD kid. He’s a real big shot.”

“WAS a Stanford kid. Not anymore. Not for a while.” Sam half smiles as he walks over to put a bag in the trunk.

You smile, “Well I’ll have to hear about that some other time. But as far as college kids go, Sam, for you I’d make an exception.” You lift your sunglasses and wink at as you slide into the back seat of the Impala.

Sam smiles and glances at Dean. He’s not unaware of the way Dean’s been acting since they met you and knows that even a wink from you might make him a little jealous. He doesn’t say anything, just raises his eyebrows, and Dean shoots him back a glare, blurting back “Oh shut up!” as he opens the Impala’s front door and starts the engine. He grabs a quick glance at you through the rearview mirror and sees you staring out the window. Damn, he’s really gonna have to focus to keep his head in the game on this one.

(Reader POV)  
Within about 15 minutes you are at a string of bars lining the college campus. You park on the street and walk into the first one.

“Jesus,” you breathe out, “It’s Wednesday morning. Why are there so many people here?”

“It’s syllabus week,” Sam declares, “Basically just one big party since no one really has any real work to do yet. Plus, college kids love to day drink.”

“Well what are we waiting for?” Dean says through a massive grin as he glances towards a group of giggling sorority girls all dressed in their colors, who are already staring at him, “Let’s get our syllabus week on!” With that, he swaggers over to their table, arms wide open and charm on full display.

You and Sam just shake your heads and walk up to the bar. Sam stays with the bartender, asking him the usual questions and trying to find out if he has seen anything suspicious lately.

You turn around and lean back, elbows on the bar propping yourself up, and take in the scene. Everyone is either drunk or well on their way. Pretty much everyone looks like a fool. But… they look happy. Normal. You wonder for a second what it might have been like to have a life like this. You know, deep down, it was never a possibility for you. But it’s still nice to imagine it sometimes.

You’re pulled from your trance by a group of (no doubt) frat boys who stroll up to you. The largest one, in the front of the group, has short black greasy hair and a large beer in hand. 

“You’re not like all the other girls in this bar. Or any of these bars for that matter.” He says with an eyebrow raised, already leaning way too close to you.

As much as he is already annoying you, you know you need to try to talk to the locals, so you play along, “Oh yeah? What makes me so different?”

“Well, you’re by yourself. Leaning back on the bar like you actually don’t care if anyone notices you. And yet, you’re, like, the hottest chick here. And… you look like you could kick my ass.”

You smile, lean towards him, and whisper, “I could.”

The frat boys all laugh and big guy in the front scoffs. “You gotta let me buy you a drink.”

You nod. “Okay, deal. But I have some questions about this school. I’m thinking about enrolling but I just want to know some things about it first. I mean, if you don’t mind of course.” You smile up at him with as much charm as you can muster and place a hand on his forearm. It’s not the first time you’ve flirted for information and it won’t be the last.

“Honey, you stay right here next to me, I’ll tell ya anything you wanna know.” The big guy whispers.

As it turns out, the frat boys were actually some help. You found out at least 5 of the 7 missing kids were getting into drugs just before they disappeared. And they were all meeting some dealer in an alley between a couple of the less popular bars. They had all been planning to meet their dealer on the nights they disappeared. This is definitely a start.

At this point, Frat Boy is drunk and is leaning even closer to you. His massive hand is resting itself firmly on your hip as he continues to blurt out everything he knows about the victims. You glance across the bar to see Sam and Dean still talking with the large group of sorority girls, which has almost doubled in size since Sam joined Dean over there. They're all chatting, the girls constantly giggling, and you have to admit, you feel just the slightest tinge of jealousy as one of the girls drapes herself over Dean’s left side. But it's just a tinge. And it doesn’t matter, because after this hunt you're leaving. And right now you have a job to do. You don’t notice that while the girls are hanging on him, Dean’s eyes keep flicking back to you. To the big guy who has his hand on you. Who's leaning so close to you, Dean thinks he might kiss you.

And that’s exactly what he does. Out of nowhere, while your eyes are focused across the bar on the boys, the Frat Boy plants his lips down on yours, hard and forceful like he knew he was losing your attention and had decided he’d worked too hard for it to walk away with nothing. You grunt, and push him off, looking up at him angrily.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you demand.

“What the fuck do you think YOU’RE doing? I’m answering all your weird questions, buying you drinks, and you’re barely paying attention to me. Come on baby, I just want a little kiss,” He tightens his grip on your hip and pulls you closer to him, his other hand grabbing a handful of hair at the base of your neck and plants another kiss on you, this one even more forceful than the last. You’re pushing on his chest, but he is big, so he’s hardly budging.

You hear a deep, angry “HEY!” echo out from across the bar, and Frat Guy must hear it too because he loosens his hold on you for just a split second, and you take that time to knee him in the groin. He reels back, and you punch him directly in the nose. As he goes to grab his nose to catch the inevitable blood about to flow, you grab one of his large arms and pin it behind his back, using your other hand to force his face down onto the bar, hard. He cries out in pain and you lean down right next to his ear, narrow your eyes, and whisper, 

“Remember when I told you I could kick your ass?” He groans out and nods his head.

“If you ever touch another girl without permission again, I will come back here and I will kill you.” With that you lift his head up, slam it down hard once more on the bar, and let him crumble to the floor. You turn around, humming out, “Thanks for the info.”

As you turn around, you’re met with the faces of the Winchester boys, their concerned looks melting into surprise.

“We should probably get out of here,” you state, “As long as you guys are done flirting with the ladies?” With a chuckle, you’re strolling out of the bar and onto the street.

(Dean POV)  
These girls are hot. Totally hot. And they are into him. They’re laughing at everything he says, even when he isn’t really trying to be funny. It’s almost too easy. He could probably have his pick of any one (or probably more than one) of them that he wanted to take back to the motel. And yet…  
He can’t stop looking over at you. That guy. There’s a guy standing so damn close to you. Does he really need to be that close? Of course the irony isn’t lost on him, he knows he’s surrounded by women who are hanging all over him, but… that GUY won’t back off. Why does he even care? You certainly don’t seem to care about all these women on him. He should focus on them. With their tight tank tops and short skirts. But, the way those jeans look on you... Those jeans that this GUY has got a big meaty hand on. Leaning in like he’s gonna try to – 

HE FUCKIN’ KISSED YOU. Dean is instantly pulling out of the grip of these women, trying to wade through the crowd of people to get across the bar to you. He sees you push him off and the son of a bitch just grabs you tighter like he’s got a right to touch you at all. Heat is burning in Dean’s chest as he watches this dick kiss you again. He’s so angry, he can see you trying to push him away and all he can think about is getting over there, protecting you. As soon as Sam realizes what’s going on he’s right behind Dean, pushing through the crowd to get to you as soon as possible. “HEY!” Dean growls out with everything he has. He's almost there, about ready to take this guy’s head of when – 

It all happens so fast. You’re kicking the guy, punching him, and have him face down on the bar before Dean even reaches you. You threaten the guy with death to protect other girls from him in the future and then you spin around like it’s nothing. You haven’t even broken a sweat. Dean stares at you, dumbfounded, and you casually talk to him and Sam like you do this kind of thing every day. You strut your way out of the bar and Dean can’t help but watch you leave. Maybe the place he knows you from is his wildest fantasy. “God damn,” he mutters as he and Sam follow you out of the bar.

(Reader POV)  
You turn around to face them as soon as they’re out of the bar, “So look, the big idiot in there did tell me something that the vics had in common and I think-“

“Y/N!” Sam stops you, “Are you okay?”

“What do you mean?” You question.

“He means what the hell happened in there? That dickbag had his hands all over you and he - he was kissing you!” Dean shouts.

“Oh that? Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Trust me, I’ve had worse.” You blurt. The boys eye you curiously but they don’t push any further.

“So anyway, a bunch of the victims were doing drugs. Experimenting. They all had a dealer that they were meeting in the same place. I wouldn’t be surprised if the dealer they were meeting had fangs.”

“Wow, uh… nice work,” Sam says, “So, we head to the meet up spot tonight? See if we can snag ourselves a vamp and find out where the rest are?”

“That’s what I’m thinking.”

Trapping the vamp was surprisingly easy. Sam pretended to be a potential customer and distracted the vamp just long enough for you and Dean to sneak up behind him and inject him with dead man’s blood. Now, you’ve got him tied to a chair in the boys’ motel room trying to get him to give up information on the nest.

“Where the hell is it?” Dean growls. “We know there are more of you. We know you’ve got a nest somewhere. You may not wanna be the one to give ‘em up, but you were the one who was dumb enough to get caught so that’s just how it’s gotta be.”

He grins, flashing all of his teeth, as he looks past Dean at you, “If you guys wanna get me to talk there are faaaar better ways you could persuade me.” He licks his lips as he looks you up and down. You stare back with dark eyes, sitting silently and calmly twirling your knife on the table while you watch.

“Shut the hell up.” Dean spits at the vamp, “You’re gonna tell us. Trust me. Do us all a favor and don’t waste any more time.”

“You want me to talk? You’re gonna have to convince me.” He says as he continues to stare at you with a lewd smirk.

“Fine.” You state matter-of-factly as you stand up slowly, knife in hand. The boys and the vamp watch as you dip it in dead man’s blood, step forward and drag it down the entire length of the vamp’s chest with ease. He screams out, instantly out of breath and panting. You waste no time, dipping the knife again and plunging it into the meat of his thigh, and twisting. He screams again, trying desperately to catch his breath. He seems like he’s trying to start speaking, but you plunge the knife into his other thigh before he has a chance. Dean reaches forward and grabs your arm, pulling you back gently.

“Y/N, hey, hey. Take it easy. You got him. I think he’s ready to talk." The room is buzzing from the energy you’re putting out. This is the first time the boys realize just how dangerous – and how angry – you can be. You take a deep breath and a step back.

“Right. Okay, so speak. Unless you want me to keep going.”

“You’re a fucking crazy bitch.” The vamp breathes out. You step forward again and he flinches away. “NO! No, okay I-I’ll tell you where they are. Just – please stop. There’s a little barn, just outside of town. Just past mile marker 40. There was a fire in it last year and it’s been abandoned ever since. No one ever comes by. It’s the perfect place for us to lay low.”

“Thanks.” You say, and in a second you’re picking the machete up off the table and taking off the vamp’s head before he even has a chance to beg you not to. “Definitely not gonna be allowed back at this motel,” you sigh, looking down at the mess in front of you.

“Yeah, well… not the first time.” Dean says. You help the boys clean up and head back to your room to clean yourself up before inevitably getting dirty again when you go hunt the rest of the vamps in the middle of the night.

When you leave the room, the boys exchange looks. “Dude,” Sam says “what is the deal with this girl?”

“I don’t know, man,” Dean sighs, “But anger like that – that comes from somewhere. We of all people know that.” He absentmindedly rubs the mark on his forearm.

A couple hours later, you’re all heading towards the barn to finally end this hunt. You kneel in the grass outside a window, scoping the place out, and realize there are at least 10 vamps, all just hanging out, drinking blood from the most recent two victims – who are hanging from the ceiling, tubes inserted into to their necks and arms, draining them of blood. The victims don’t look good – you know you have to hurry in quickly just in case there’s a chance they’re still alive.

“Shit,” Dean whispers. “There’s so many of them. If we head in there guns blazing, there’s enough of them that they could easily just kill those kids while we’re trying to fight them ‘em all.”

Sam sighs. “Yeah, how are we supposed to get them away from the kids, let alone kill them all?”

“A good distraction would get enough of them away.” You whisper.

They both look at you and you grin before jumping up and running around the other end of the barn.

“Y/N, NO!” Dean shouts in a whisper after you, but you’re already long gone. He and Sam exchange panicked and confused looks, and then they hear a loud crash on the other side of the barn. They watch through the window intently as more than half of the vampires get up and exit the barn on the other side. They exchange glances that show they both realize now is the time to strike if they want to save the victims. They nod at each other before rushing into the barn together. They fight with the remaining vamps for a few moments, eventually taking off their heads. Then, they rush to the victims, untying them and removing the tubes from their veins. The boys are relieved to realize they’re both still alive.

That’s when they notice the sounds of screams and fighting just outside the barn doors. They look at each other in a panic, knowing that you’re out there alone with at least 5 vamps. In that same instant, the screaming and snarling abruptly stops and all they hear is silence. They rush to the doors, machetes in hand, both fearful knowing that 5 vampires against 1 human are not very good odds. Before the get to the doors, they fly open and the boys get in fighting stance, waiting to see a horde of vamps rushing toward them.

Instead, they see a head roll through along the hay and stop just in front of their feet. They look up and see you, standing alone in the doorway, coated in blood. They aren’t sure how much of it is yours and how much is the vampires’. Behind you, 5 headless vampires lay scattered along the ground. They watch in shock as you limp towards them with a smile, wiping the blood from your cheek with the back of your hand.

“Hey, guys.” You huff out happily.

They don’t say anything, both still just watching you, dumbfounded. You nod toward the victims, who are now conscious, sitting on the ground, but are still very weak.

“They alright?” You ask the boys. They just continue staring, so you raise your eyebrows and lean toward them. “…hello?”

Sam finally answers, his face still amazed. “Yeah, uh… yeah, they’re okay. Are… are you okay?”

“Me?” You ask, surprised. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You run your fingers through your long, loose hair and toss it to the side.

It’s then that they distinguish, amongst all the vampire blood and scratches all over you, a deep bite on your shoulder, right where your shoulder and neck meet.  
Dean immediately rushes up to you, concern blooming in his green eyes.

“Shit, Y/N.” He says as he reaches out to apply pressure to your wound. You wince and grumble, “I’m fine, I promise.”

Dean takes off his flannel and holds it to your neck, pressing down. Without his flannel, you can’t help but take in his form in just his fitted black T-shirt. The way the muscles in his shoulders and arms move as he applies pressure has your heart suddenly beating a little faster. You place your hand gently on top of his and look into his eyes.

“Dean, I’m fine. Really. Thank you.”

The two of you hold each other’s gaze for a while before he finally releases his hold and allows you to apply the pressure on your own. He backs away from you and looks you up and down, making sure you aren’t hiding any other wounds.

“What in the hell was that?” He asks.

“What?” You say, confused.

“That!” He points to your pile of dead vamps. “Just runnin’ off like that without warning and takin’ on all those vamps on your own!”

“Well, we got the job done, didn’t we?” You smirk at him mischievously. “I think we make a pretty good team. And that,” You point your bloody machete at the pile of vampires, “Was fun.” You wink at him before you walk over to the victims and kneel in front of them, assuring them that everything will be okay and asking them where they live so that you can take them home.

“Who the hell are you…” Dean mutters to himself as he watches you.

The three of you burn the vampire bodies and the barn, drop the victims off safely at home, and head back to your motel to tend to your own wounds. Sam has a couple blows to his face that require ice, Dean has a few scratches to his abdomen and one on his cheekbone that needs cleaning, but of course – you’re the one who needs stitches. In a place where it’s difficult – not impossible, you’ve done it before – but difficult to put the stitches in on your own.

You finally agree to let Dean stitch you up while Sam runs out for some liquor (you all need it). You sit on the end of Dean’s bed as he gets the first aid kit. He comes over, stands next to you, and leans down to begin cleaning your wound, his face inches from your ear.

“You know, Y/N, you’re a god damn badass.”

You chuckle, “Well, I could say the same to you, Winchester. But thanks.”

He’s silent for a few seconds and you can tell he’s in deep thought. “So… where does that come from? I mean, we all have our stories that got us to this point. What’s yours?”

He takes your silence as an answer, “Sorry. Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I mean, it’s not like you’re asking me about how Sammy and I started.” You can hear the embarrassment and regret in his tone.

“No, no, it’s okay. I just usually – well, always – hunt alone. So, I’m not really used to sharing. But maybe we can swap some stories once you’re done sticking a needle in my neck and Sam is back with the liquor.” 

He smiles, and you can feel his hot breath on your ear as he stitches you up. As he finishes, Sam comes in the room with the drinks and some snacks. The three of you sit around the little table in the room and pass a bottle of whiskey around. The boys tell you about their mother and their father, and how they got started. Sam talks about Stanford and Jess, and how he ended up back in the life. They tell you everything. It shocks you. Not what they’re telling you, but the fact that they’re telling you all of it, when they hardly even know you. They tell you about Azazel, Sam dying, and Dean’s deal. You listen especially close when Dean talks about Hell. Your stomach drops when he actually tells you that he tortured souls. Admits it to you. The pain in his face as he tells you – it nearly breaks your heart. How weird is that? You’re feeling bad for HIM as he tells you about what he did to you – when he doesn’t even remember that it was you. But you hold your composure. Because you want to hear more. You want to hear all of it.

They tell you about Cass, who sounds like someone you truly can’t wait to meet. They’re surprised when you’re not surprised that angels exist. You pull an angel blade out of your bag and tell them you’ve actually already tussled with the dicks yourself. They tell you about stopping multiple apocalypses. About Sam and the demon blood. About Lucifer and Michael, and everything Sam went through in Hell and without his soul. They tell you about Dick Roman and Dean’s eyes darken when he talks about Purgatory. You stop them when they talk about Bobby – you know Bobby. Your dad had been friends with him and you knew him when you were little. You can see the sadness and the love in their eyes when you tell them how kind he had been to you and how much he meant to you too. They tell you about being Men of Letters, and about the bunker. Finally, they tell you about killing Abbadon, and Dean gets very quiet when Sam explains the Mark of Cain. So that’s what that is. Of course you had wondered about it, but you aren’t one to pry. Your throat gets dry when they tell you they’ve been working with a Demon named Crowley. Finally, they tell you about Metatron and his plans to take over Heaven, and everything he’s done so far. They tell you they’re looking for him, and the plan is to kill him before it’s too late.

You’re quiet for a while as you process everything they’ve told you. You ask only a couple of questions, and the boys are surprised at how easily you accept everything. Truthfully, there isn’t much that gets to you anymore. After passing the bottle a few more times, you realize the three of you have almost downed the whole thing. Maybe it’s the sudden buzz you feel, maybe it’s the fact that they’ve spilled their whole life stories to you, but you take a deep breath and do something you’ve never done with anyone before. You open up.

“My dad was a hunter.” You begin, and the boys are instantly listening intently.

“His parents were killed by a vamp when he was a teenager and that brought him into the life. He taught me everything. Even took me along on hunts when I was little. But he didn’t want me in the life completely. He settled down with my mom, and although she knew about hunting, she never really wanted to hear about it. She just pretended he was on business trips whenever he was gone.”

The boys listen attentively as you continue, “He died on a hunt when I was 10. I was there. It was a werewolf. He thought there were only 2, but… there were 3. The third took him by surprise and ripped out his throat. It didn’t know I was there, so I picked up his gun and shot it while it was standing over his body. But not before it ripped his heart out. I, uh… I knew my mom wouldn’t be able to handle it so I called Bobby. He’s actually the one who helped me give my dad a Hunter’s funeral and brought me back home." The boys look pained hearing about your father, but smile when you talk about Bobby.

“Sorry about your dad,” Sam says, with the biggest set of puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Yeah, thanks. He was… he was a great hunter. And a great dad. Anyway, after he died… my mom was different. I mean, I won’t lie, she was never really the lovey dovey type, but after him, she barely even looked at me. When I was 12, she remarried. Chris.” You take a sip of whiskey right before you say his name so you can mask the venom of your voice with the burning of the liquor.

“He was…” You trail off as you begin to go through your memories with your stepfather. You know the boys can see the hatred in your eyes when you try to talk about him, it’s obvious. You clear your throat and snap yourself out of the memories, “Chris was an asshole. My mom died a year after marrying him. Chris pulled me out of school to home school me so I was pretty isolated. You could call him… overprotective. I… didn’t get out much. When I was 17, I was offered a way out. And I took it.”

You assess the boys’ reactions. You can see they know there is so much more to the story, and although you know you can’t bring yourself to tell them everything, you also trust them enough to give them more. At this point, you’re afraid if you admit to going to Hell, that might be all it takes to make Dean remember. And you don’t want him to. Not now. Not like this. But you’re buzzed and since you’ve started talking, it’s become surprisingly hard to stop.

“My way out – it was… Crowley.” The surprise is evident on their faces.

“So… so you…” Dean reasons as he works it out in his brain.

“Yeah, I know the little prick too. He came to me when I was 17 and told me he could get me out of town, a fresh start, away from my stepdad and the haunting memories of my parents and get me started in whatever life I wanted. And honestly, all I wanted was to be like my dad. So he got me out. And I started hunting. And I got 3 years.” You say flatly.

Sam swallows, “Three… years?”

“Sam,” you reply, I know you two know what kind of low life Crowley used to be. I got my freedom. For my soul. When I was 20, I went to Hell.”

Dean sits up and swallows hard. You hold your breath, silently praying he isn’t suddenly remembering. But all he says is, “Why did you only get three years?”

A question that’s always bothered you, too. “I don’t know. I guess because my father was known downstairs for killing a bunch of the black-eyed dicks. In the moment, I didn’t care. I was young. And I probably would’ve taken any deal that limey dick threw at me.”

Sam raises his eyebrows and leans forward, “So, how did you get out? How long were you there?”

“I don’t know.” A lie. “I was only there for a few months, maybe equal to 30 years down there. And I hardly remember it.” Another lie.

“One day I just woke up and I was topside again. I’ve tried to figure it out but I’ve just never gotten any answers.” LIE. You can’t tell them. It’s too much. Too much to think about and too much to admit.

“Anyway, that was a few years ago. Since then I’ve just been laying low and hunting. And now here I am. With the famous Winchesters.” You give them a cheeky smile and take a large swig of the whiskey. They smile back. You don’t know if they believe you, but if they don’t, they aren’t letting on. The three of you talk and joke around a bit longer until the bottle is gone.

When it is, you stand up, “Well boys, this has been fun. Honestly. I can’t tell you the last time I’ve had any legitimate human contact that wasn’t just for the purposes of getting info for a case.”

“Yeah, it’s been fun Y/N. We should definitely do it again.” Sam smiles as stands up and reaches out, pulling you into a bear hug. You’re surprised at first, but you melt into it quickly and find yourself squeezing him just as tight.

You turn to Dean, who’s wearing a smile that doesn’t seem entirely genuine. There’s an awkward air as he reaches his hand out to shake yours. You laugh and take his hand in yours. “Thanks for the stitches, Dean.”

“Anytime, Y/N.” You can tell there is so much more he wants to say, but he doesn’t. You exchange numbers with the boys and exit their room with a “Catch ya around”, and walk the few doors down to your room.

When you leave, Sam turns to his brother, “Well, I like her.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, still staring at the door you just exited from, “yeah, she’s…” Before he finishes, he’s rushing out the door and chasing you down before you’re even in your room.

“Y/N, wait!” He calls behind you. You spin around in the doorway, surprise in your eyes. He stops only inches from your face.

“You have to tell me.”

“T-tell you what Dean?”

“I do know you. I know that I know you. But you have to tell me where I know you from.”

You look down, you can’t bear to see those green eyes begging you for information you know you can’t bring yourself to give. “Dean-“

“Please, Y/N. I have to know.” He pleads.

You place your hand gently on his chest and look up, your Y/E/C eyes meeting the green. “Trust me. Leave it alone.” Now it’s your eyes that are pleading with his, and he sees this. He licks his lips and then looks down, placing his hand on top of yours on his chest.

“Goodnight, Dean.” You say as you remove your hand from his chest and turn back into the room.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” And with that, you close the door on Dean Winchester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're all Dean can think about after their hunt with you.

(Sam’s POV)

It’s been two weeks. Two weeks since their hunt with you. And Dean can’t get you out of his head, Sam can tell. Sam can tell how distracted he is, and he knows his big brother enough to know that it’s because of you. Sam noticed yours and Dean’s weird connection from the beginning. He also noticed how Dean was more Dean when he was around you than he’s been in a very long time. Not Mark of Cain Dean, just Dean. Hell, you were the one who had the anger issues out of the three of them, not Dean. But he liked you. You fit in with them. When you were with them, it felt right. He was sad when you left too, but not like Dean. Dean's acting different, and Sam's just hoping it will wear off soon.

(Dean’s POV)

He couldn’t stop thinking about you. Where he knew you from, at what point in his life he had come across you before. He wracked his brain. For two weeks. Back at the bunker, he was having more nightmares than usual. Nightmares about things he’s done with the Mark and things he’s done in Hell. And your face. Your face just appearing in those dreams, taunting him. He didn’t understand how it connected. How any of it connected.

Until tonight. He’s having another nightmare about Hell. But this one feels more real than any of the others have. He’s slicing into his victim… and he looks up. And there you are. Your face. Attached to the body that he is currently torturing. And it all comes flooding back. He sits up in bed with a strangled gasp, every ounce of air flooding out of his lungs at once. His green eyes are bouncing back and forth around the room in panic as he remembers everything he did to you. His chest is heaving and he starts to shake his head, trying to tell himself it’s just his mind playing tricks on him. But he knows it isn’t. He remembers it all so clearly now. He tortured you.

He runs to Sam’s room and busts the door open. Sam shoots up in bed, pistol in hand, but lowers it when he sees Dean’s panicked expression. “Dean… w-what…” He glances at the clock, “It’s 4:00 in the morning, dude, what are you doing?”

“I tortured her, Sam.” He’s pacing back and forth at the foot of Sam’s bed, heart racing.

“What are you talking about, Dean?”

“Y/N, Sam! I tortured her. In Hell. She was… she was one of the souls. On my rack. The last one. The last person I tortured. The last face I remember before Cass got me out.”  
Sam is silent. His mouth is open but no words come out.

“Sam… how could she even look at me? Be in the same room as me? Let alone hunt with me!”

“Dean, maybe she doesn’t remember? She said herself she doesn’t even know how she got out.”

“She’s lyin’, Sam! She knows. I know she knows. That first night at the bar… she looked like she wanted to kill me. She was pissed at me for not knowing who she was. And then she just… let it go, played it off like it was nothing.”

Sam furrows his brows. “Well, maybe she could see who you are. Y’know, who you really are. You are not what you did in Hell, Dean. You know that. Maybe she could tell. She’s a smart girl.”

“She listened to me talk about Hell. Listened to me talk about it like it was MY sob story when she had to sit there and think about all the terrible things I did to her!” His rage is boiling, and Sam can see it.

Sam stands and reaches his hands out to his brother.

“Hey… hey. Sit down Dean.” He gently presses on Dean’s shoulders until he finally sits down on the end of Sam’s bed.

“Look, Y/N’s a big girl, okay? Maybe she just chose to put it behind her. And she didn’t tell you because she wants you to put it behind you, too.”

Dean’s sitting but he hasn’t calmed down.

“Or maybe she wants to kill me! I’d wanna kill me. Maybe she’s just waiting to get revenge on me for everything I’ve done to her!”

“Y’know Dean, if it was anyone else… I might say the same thing. But Y/N, I don’t know… there was just something about her. I trusted her instantly. And I know you did too. I know it’s hard. But she chose to hunt with us. She chose to open up to us. And yeah, it was clear she wasn’t telling us everything but something tells me she still told us more than she’s ever told anyone. If we run into her again, which I’m sure we will, you can choose in that moment how you want to address this. Maybe you’ll get your chance to apologize. And I have a feeling she’ll accept it when you do. But right now – we’re no closer to finding Metatron. And we have to focus on finding him and saving Heaven and Earth. Can you do that with me?”

Dean runs his palm down the length of his face and clears his throat, “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right Sammy. I can do that.” And he knows he has to. But he also knows your face is going to be the only thing he sees every time he closes his eyes at night. Maybe Sam’s right, maybe you have forgiven him. But how can he ever forgive himself?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You run into the boys again on another hunt, and Dean has a lot he needs to say to you.

(Dean’s POV)

It’s now been 2 months since his run in with you. He hasn’t forgotten you, not in the least. But the hunt comes first. The hunt always comes first. And they’ve got some leads on a possible werewolf on the East Coast. So, they’ve just taken the full day’s drive to New Jersey. They’ve unloaded their bags into their hotel room, and they’ve made their way to the bar just a few miles down the road. The plan is to get a little drunk, hustle a little pool, and head to the police station in the morning.

As they walk through the front door, the smell of cigarettes and liquor flooding their nostrils, he sees you. You’re at the pool table, no doubt hustling the group of young guys out of a few hundred dollars. You’re bent over the table, your long Y/H/C waves falling down around your determined face. Your dark jeans hug your hips and legs, and your faded black t-shirt is vintage Stones. For a brief moment, he forgets why he was ever afraid to see you again and his heart flutters at your beauty. Beauty that seems to be geared specifically for him.

And then he remembers. Sam’s noticed you, too, and is smiling as you sink your final shot and grab a wad of cash off the corner of the table. It’s then that you see them. You smile, and swagger over.

“Werewolf?” you laugh.

Sam nods and chuckles ,”You always beat us to it.”

“Nah, just got here too. And the first round’s on me.” You smile as you wave your cash in the air and head to the bar. The boys grab a seat at the closest booth and Dean’s heart is racing. Sam can see the panic in his features.

“Dude, calm down. She doesn’t know that you know, okay? Play it cool. You can talk about it when the right moment comes.”

Dean lets out a slight sigh of relief. He knows Sam’s right. He can choose when to approach it. But he knows he needs to. He can’t go through another hunt without apologizing to you. He needs you to know how sorry he is.

You return to the table with drinks for everyone and scoot in next to Sam, across from Dean.

“So boys, how’s the hunt for Meta-douche?”

“It’s frustrating,” Sam replies honestly, “Every time we think we got a lead on him, it ends up being nothing. We’re pretty much chasing our tails at this point.”

“Well, if anyone can nab the dick, I’m confident it’ll be you two. Besides, a nice werewolf hunt might be just what you need to take your mind off it for a bit.” You say as you clink your glass against Sam’s.

Dean still hasn’t said a word to you yet. He’s afraid to open his mouth for fear that the first words might be ‘Sorry about the torture.’ But he does his best.

“So, does that mean you’ll share the hunt with us again?” He asks with as much Dean Winchester charm as he can muster.

“Oh, I suppose… only if we can get drunk and bare our souls to each other again at the end.” You coo.

You spend the next hour or so catching up. You tell the boys about the little hunts you’ve been picking up since they last saw you, and they tell you about their hunt for Metatron. You realize that you’re once again staying at the same hotel, and they offer to give you a lift back. When you pull up at the motel, Sam seems to know that Dean’s decided to finally talk to you, so he rushes out of the car and into the hotel room before you and Dean are even all the way out of the Impala. You start towards your door, and Dean follows you.

“Hey, Y/N, can we uh… can I come in for a minute?”

He sees the hesitation in your body language, but you nod your head and let him in. You’re standing in the middle of the room, the tension thick and heavy around both of you.

“I remember.” He finally whispers, just loud enough for you to hear.

He looks at you, desperately trying to read your face. You just take a deep breath and let it out slow.

“Dean-"

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t remember right away, that you had to listen to me talk about it like I was the victim. I’m sorry that you have to look at me right now. I’m… I’m sorry f-for… for torturing you.”

The last sentence hits you hard and you squeeze your eyes shut. “Dean.”

“And I understand if you never wanna see me again. And I understand if you wanna take that knife I know is hiding in your boot and stab it through my heart. Hell, I would. You don’t have to forgive me. I obviously don’t expect you to. I just need you to know. I’m so fucking sorr-"

“DEAN!” You shout, snapping him out of his rant. He looks into your eyes as you step towards him, and he jumps in surprise as you take his face in your hands.

“I forgive you.” You breathe out.

“But… but-"

“Dean, I forgave on that last hunt. Honestly, I forgave you that first night in the bar when you didn’t even know who I was. Trust me, it surprised me too. But, it happened. I looked into your eyes and I knew. The anger just washed away. And then, when I really thought about it, I realized that even in Hell, whenever I looked directly into your eyes, I wasn’t scared. No matter what you were doing to me, your eyes were screaming at me that you didn’t mean it. That you were suffering just as much as I was. That we were in it together. And I held onto that. Even after you disappeared. This is gonna sound absolutely nuts, but I think… I think you’re the one who really got me through Hell. Even after you left. So please, please stop apologizing. I forgive you.”

You stare intently into his eyes, your hands still on his cheeks, waiting for your words to sink in, and for him to see that you really mean it. He can suddenly hear his own heart beating. He feels the warmth of your palms seeping into his cheeks and he suddenly feels safer than he ever has. Your beautiful Y/E/C eyes are gazing into his, and he knows you’re telling the truth. He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t deserve it. But you are looking at him right now and telling him you forgive him for some of his greatest sins. The air goes from tense to something else, a new kind of energy. It feels like right here, in your presence, he can relax for the first time in years. He closes his eyes, relaxes his shoulders, and leans his face into your touch. You stay that way, in comfortable silence, for a moment. Nothing else needs to be said. Eventually, he opens his eyes to see you smiling back at him.

He smiles too as he rasps out, “Thank you, Y/N.”

You lower your hands from his face. “Now, get outta here. Sam’s gonna think we’re having sex.”

He cocks an eyebrow and licks his lips before chuckling, “Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” He opens the door and turns around once more before exiting, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that you and Dean have talked, it's time to share another hunt with the boys. What could go wrong?

Your entire body was energized after he left. You could still feel the scruff of his chin on your palms as they hung at your sides. You stayed in place, remembering the way his pleading eyes seemed to look past yours and into your soul. It was true, the two of you had forged a connection in Hell that was – that IS - unlike anything you’ve ever felt. You don’t know what it is. All you know is that you actually trust him. And you feel safe with him. And those are new feelings for you.

The next morning, it’s time to play FBI dress up to go down to the station and get some information on the murders. You aren’t thrilled. You furrow your brows as you look yourself up and down in the mirror. You’re wearing a tight black pencil skirt, black open-toed heels, and a long sleeve red silk button up tucked into your skirt. You refuse to pull your hair back, you like having it down and just running your fingers through it and tossing it in all directions whenever it gets in your way. You hate your FBI getup. You’re not a skirt person and definitely not a business-casual person, but you know it has to be done.

You hear a knock on the door followed by, “Come on, Sweetheart, I wanna get to the station before the deputies eat all the doughnuts!”

You take one last frustrated look in the mirror before you grab your bag and open the door. The boys both do a double take as they take in your attire.

“Wow, Y/N, you look…” Sam trails off. Dean just stares at you up and down with his mouth slightly open.

You glare at the both of them. “Were you expecting me to wear ripped jeans and combat boots to pose as an FBI agent?”

Dean chuckles uncomfortably, “Ah, heh…” he clears his throat as he looks you up and down yet again before pointing a finger at you, “Good point. That’s a good point.”

Sam laughs, “No, no. You just look really nice, that’s all.”

You soften slightly. “Thanks, Sam.” You say as you take notice of their outfits as well. You had to admit, they looked damn good in suits. Your eyes scan Dean’s body up and down, admiring how the form-fitted suit perfectly hugs the curves of his broad shoulders and arms. You have to force yourself to break the gaze and walk around the boys to open the back door of the Impala. You don’t see the way Dean watches you as you walk away, absentmindedly licking his bottom lip and pulling it up between his teeth. When he catches Sam watching him, he snaps out of his own gaze and gets in the car.

At the station, the Sheriff tells you that they believe they have a serial killer on their hands. However, you and the boys come to the conclusion that you’re looking for a werewolf, just a particularly sadistic one. He kidnaps his victims – all pretty, young females - days before he takes their heart, torturing them the whole time. The victims all had severe cuts and bruises all over their bodies before each of them died the same way – with their hearts clawed from their chest.

You stop for burgers on the way home and bring them back to the boys’ room to figure out a plan on how to approach the hunt.

“So, anybody got any ideas on how to hunt a deranged serial killer werewolf?” Deans asks around a mouthful of double bacon cheeseburger.

Sam answers, “Well, he’s probably a loner. He likes to take his time. He’s probably been doing this for a while. We know he holds his victims for days so he’s gotta have some kind of home base where he keeps them that whole time, and probably where he hides out between victims too.”

You chime in, “All the victims went missing while walking their dogs or jogging or something of that nature at the park in town. All went missing sometime between sunset and dark. There were no traces of drugs in any of their systems’ so he must just be overpowering them. It’s possible he’s got a place somewhere in the woods surrounding there, but it’s also possible he drives them someplace miles away. The bodies were found all over the county.”

“So, what, we search the woods first and then if we don’t find anything we drive around hoping to find his secret lair?” Dean retorts.

“No,” you answer, “There’s no time. They just found another body which means he’s probably already on the hunt for another victim. We can’t risk him picking up another girl.”

“So we have no ideas.”

“I didn’t say that. I have an idea. At least, I know what I would do if I was still hunting this one on my own.”

The boys wait intently for you to continue. “Well, we know where he’s picking them up. We know he’s going after young females jogging in the park. I have some running gear in my bag I could just-"

“Ohhhhh no, not happening Sweetheart.” Dean interjects. “There’s no way Sammy and I are gonna let you use yourself as bait for this dickbag.”

You cock your head to the side and raise your eyebrows in a look that has both him and Sam swallowing hard. “I’m sorry, at what point in there did I ask you for your permission?”

Sam tries to ease the sudden tension, “Look, Y/N, we aren’t trying to tell you what to do, it’s just dangerous and we don’t want to risk your life if we don’t have to. Why don’t we just all head over to the park together and scope it out? That way if he tries to nab another girl we can catch him in the act together.”

“Sam. I never said you guys couldn’t come. I want to scope the place out together, all I’m saying is if we can try to control the next girl he’s gonna nab, then we hold the cards without him even knowing it! Plus, it’ll be a lot easier for me to blend in and really scope the place out if I look like I belong there. There are going to be other girls there so we don’t even know for sure that he’s gonna go after me-"

“Oh, he’ll go after you.” Dean cuts you off with an annoyed tone, “He’s not going to pay attention to a single other girl there once he sees you.”

You and Sam exchange confused looks and a small smirk comes across Sam’s face. Dean sees your reactions and realizes what he said.

“I just- I just mean… I don’t know!” He throws his hands up in the air and looks at Sam. “It’s just pretty likely he’ll go after her that’s all!”

“And who has a better chance against him when he does attack – me, or some innocent girl?” You demand.

With that, the boys are silent. You continue, “I know it’s not ideal. But this guy is too dangerous to wait on a better plan. I’d also like to remind the two of you that I’ve been doing this on my own for years, and I’ve faced a hell of a lot worse than werewolf Ted Bundy, okay? You don’t have a clue what I’m capable of dealing with. I’m not asking permission.”

You stand up and head for the door. “I’m gonna get changed, and we’re gonna head to the park just before sundown. Relax boys, everything’s gonna be fine.”

Once you’re gone, the boys exchange concerned glances. “I don’t like it.” Dean sighs.

“I don’t either dude, but I’m sure as hell not gonna be the one to try telling her ‘no’ again.” Sam replies.

An hour later, you’re arriving at the park. You’re wearing black leggings, a white tank top, and sneakers, and have your hair pulled up into a ponytail.

“Okay, so I’ve got my head phones plugged into my cell to make it look like I’m listening to music, and that way we can be on the phone the whole time and we can communicate everything we’re seeing.” You explain to the boys.

They nod their heads as you continue, “There’s no room in this outfit for my gun but I’ve got a silver blade stashed in case he does come after me. Be on the lookout for any pretty young girls, especially near the edge of the woods. And TRY to lay low and stay on the other side of the park because if he sees you two goons following me he’s gonna back off and we’re never gonna get him. If he grabs me, you’ll hear it on the phone and I have my location on so you’ll know where I am the whole time. I’ll either kill him myself or fight him off long enough for you two to catch up. Got it?”

Sam once again nods in agreement while Dean asks, “Where’s it stashed?”

“What?” You question.

“You said you have a silver blade stashed somewhere.” He eyes you up and down lasciviously, “Where’s it stashed?”

You stare back blankly. “We don’t have time for this.” You begin to jog away but turn around with a smirk, “Hey Dean, call me!”

He smiles back and pulls out his phone as you turn and jog away.

You’ve been jogging around the park for almost an hour and there’s no sign of any werewolf psychopath.

“I hate running,” you huff, “this is getting exhausting.”

You hear the boys chuckle on the other end. “Well, it’s pretty much completely dark now and people are starting to clear out,” Sam says, “I say it’ll be pretty much empty in a half an hour and if we don’t see anything by then we should just head out.”

“You’re doin’ great, Y/N.” Dean reassures. “Keep it up.”

You should’ve brought a water bottle with you. Why didn’t you think to do that? You see a water fountain up ahead and bend over to take a quick sip out of it when you feel a sharp pain in the side of your neck.

“Aah!” you yell out, grabbing your neck. You turn around to see a dark-haired man in his 30’s, grinning at you with a smile that seems to stretch from ear to ear. The more you try to focus on his features, the more blurry they become.

“Shit…” you mumble.

You hear Dean’s voice urgently calling to you in your headphones “Y/N! Hey! What the hell is going on?”

“Drugged… water fountain…” you manage to groan out “Check GPS.” And with that, you’re falling to your knees as the world spins around you.

The man grabs your phone from your hand and rips the head phones from your ears as you collapse onto the ground. He smiles in surprise when he reads the contact name and speaks in a taunting growl into the mic, “Dean Winchester, it’s an honor. I’ve heard so much about you. Is your brother there too?”

“We’re comin’ for you, you son of a bitch. I swear to god if you touch her-"

“You’ll what, Dean? You’re not gonna do a damn thing. Because you’re never gonna find her. But I am glad I know your phone number now. That’ll make things much more interesting.” He sneers as he drops the phone to the ground and stomps on it. He throws your limp body over his shoulder and rushes to a car parked at the edge of the park. 

The boys make it to the water fountain just in time to see him under a street light, slamming the trunk closed and jumping into the front seat. They rush to chase the car as he peels out but there’s no way for them to keep up.

“God dammit!” Dean shouts, out of breath, his eyes brimming with rage and desperation. They rush back to the Impala and drive around for a while looking for the car that took you away, but they have no luck.

They have no choice but to head back to the motel to figure out another plan. Dean’s pacing as soon as they walk in the room. He throws his bag down onto the floor and punches the wall next to his bed. Sam can see the Mark beginning to take over as Dean spins around and grabs a chair from the table. Before he has a chance to stop him, he’s flinging it across the room into the TV.

“DEAN! You gotta calm down, man. We need to figure out how to get her back.” Sam grabs his brother’s shoulders and looks him in the eyes, trying to calm him down with his puppy dog stare.

“How, Sam?! Huh? We got nothin’ to go on! All we had was that plan. HER stupid plan! We should’ve never let her-"

“Dean. The plan wasn’t stupid and you know that. You’re not mad at her, you’re worried about her. I am too. And you know there was never any ‘letting her’ do anything. She made up her mind. None of us considered that he was going to drug her.”

“Yeah, well, he did. And now we’ve got jack squat and he’s got her, doing who knows what to her…” He trails off as he sits on the end of the bed and puts his face in his hands.

“He said something about having your phone number. That it would make it more interesting. I think he’s gonna try calling, or sending something. To taunt us. When he does, we’ll be ready. And we’ll use it to find her. We have to.”

“But who knows how long that’ll take?! What he’s gonna do to her in the meantime!”

“Dean, she said herself she’s been through a lot worse than this guy, and I believe her. I mean, we know she has…”

Dean’s head snaps towards his brother, “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Sam?”

Sam sighs. “Look, Dean all I’m saying is that she told us we don’t have any idea what she’s capable of dealing with, and I believe that. She’s tough. Hell, she scares me half the time. She can handle this while we figure out where she is. And then we are going to get her back.”

(Dean’s POV)

What he doesn’t tell Sam is that is he does know what you’re capable of, how much you can handle. He knows because he remembers. He remembers Alastair calling you a “particularly tough case” before you arrived on his rack. It was nearing the end of his time there, and he had become one of Hell’s greatest torturers. And he was told to break you. But he couldn’t. Not for lack of trying – he was well past the point of no return and he showed no mercy. But nothing broke you. You laughed while choking on your own blood. You made sarcastic jokes about his form as he sliced into you. You even flirted with him a couple of times. And that last day, right before he was pulled from Hell, he was no closer to breaking you than he was the first day you landed on his rack. So yeah, he knows how much you can handle. But he still needs to get you back.


	6. Chapter 6

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the pounding in your head. You don’t open your eyes right away – you know better. You know to fake unconsciousness for as long as you can to kill time. But it doesn’t work.

“I know you’re awake. I can smell it on you.” The werewolf hums.

You slowly blink your eyes open and lift your head, taking in the scene. You’re in a cabin. Typical. There’s a small kitchen and living room, a fireplace burning against the wall. You’re seated in a chair in the middle of the room, wrists cuffed to each arm of the chair and ankles cuffed to each leg. Damn. Rope would’ve been much easier to wiggle out of. Or cut through. But of course he knows that.

“Since when do you start drugging your victims?” you groan.

“I always have it on hand. Typically don’t use it, I like the struggle. But I couldn’t take any chances with you. What with you being a pretty little hunter and all. I saw you with those Winchesters from the second you arrived at the park.” He answers.

“Oh,” you chuckle, “So you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle me in a fair fight.” He glares down at you as you continue. “Look, buddy, I gotta be honest, if you wanted to be intimidating you shouldn’t have picked such a cozy little place. I mean, are you gonna torture me or are we gonna curl up on the couch with some hot cocoa?”

He chuckles as he walks closer to you. “You know, normally by now, my girls are crying and begging me to let them go.”

“Well, what can I say, I’m not like other girls I guess. Sorry to disappoint.” You respond smugly.

“Oh no, quite the contrary. I’m not disappointed. It’ll be so much more fun to break you.”

You laugh out loud. You can tell he doesn’t like that. “Well, you can go ahead and try, but I don’t think you’ve got the time or the patience.”

He begins circling your chair, “Honey, I’ve got all the time in the world. Those Winchesters – they’re not gonna find you. No one’s gonna find you. You are all mine.” He’s behind you now, and he grabs a handful of your hair, yanks your head back, and inhales your scent. You pull your head away from him and laugh again. You know you shouldn’t because it’s clearly riling him up, but it’s just so easy.

“So why did you have to torture all those poor innocent girls before killing them, huh? Are you some kind of wannabe serial killer werewolf?”

He circles back to the front of you and you can see the anger in his eyes. “I’m not a wannabe. I’m better than all the other killers you’ve ever heard of. The police will never catch me because I have something none of the others did – I’m not human.”

This time you genuinely do try to hold in the laugh, you just can’t. “Wow, you take this very seriously don’t you? You know, they say that serial killers get their start because of some deep rooted personal issues. So, what was it? Mommy issues? Daddy issues?” You can see the anger bubbling in him but you can’t stop yourself, “Oooh, I know. You seem like the type who just couldn’t get pretty girls to talk to you, so you decided to kill them instead.”

With that, his hand flies out and the back of it connects with your cheek full force. Your head snaps to the side and your vision blurs, but you chuckle again. “Guess I hit the nail on the head.”

He hits you again, and you feel your lip split open. You spit blood on the floor, right at his feet, and look up at him. “Is that the best you’ve got?”

He grabs you by the throat and squeezes, his long nails digging into the sides of your neck, but you don’t even wince, you just glare and smirk up at him as his grip tightens. He leans down and growls, “Don’t pretend you can’t feel the pain, princess.”

You scoff, but it comes out as more of a cough as his grip continues to tighten. With what little oxygen you have, you wheeze. “I have a very… high…” You gasp. “Tolerance.”  
He snarls and releases your throat and you cough out and gasp for air. He grins sadistically. “I think maybe you like the pain.”

You choke out a laugh as your oxygen returns. “Hmmm, kinky. You might be right.” You glare up at him. “But the pain you dish out can’t even compare to what I’ve already experienced, so… maybe I’m just… unimpressed?”

With that, he reels back and punches you hard in the cheek, your head snapping to the side and your consciousness almost fading. You compose yourself, steady your gaze on him, and mumble, “Like I said… unimpressed.”

After a few more solid blows to your face and stomach with you still talking back after each one, he lets out a frustrated growl. “Well, since you don’t seem to care about your own well-being let’s talk to someone who does, huh?”

He sees the confusion on your face and continues, “Oh yeah, just before I smashed your phone into pieces, I snagged Dean Winchester’s number off of it. Before you and I began, I sent him and Sam a link to a very special website where they can watch everything we’re doing. Typically, I just record my time with my girls for posterity’s sake. But this time I’ve decided to be generous and share with the boys.”

He then points to a camera behind him that you hadn’t even noticed, pointing right at you. Great. So they’ve seen everything so far. They are not gonna be happy with you riling the guy up. This could be a good thing though, if he’s streaming on some website, maybe Sam can use that to track your location. You smile at the camera with blood-stained teeth and say, “Hi boys. Don’t worry. I’m having a great time with Jeffrey Dahmer over here.”

He slaps you across the face once again. “She is a feisty one isn’t she, fellas?” He looks into the camera, “And how are you? Enjoying the show? Having fun yet? I know I am.” 

He says as he moves towards the kitchen counter. “But, let’s make it a little more fun, huh?” He smiles as he picks up a very large hunting knife and strolls back over to you.  
“Heh… you know what they say about men with large knives…” You mock. He growls as he brings the knife down and slices along your collarbone.

(Dean POV)  
He’s furious. He wants to pick the laptop up and hurl it across the room. If it wasn’t the only link they had to you, he would have by now. He’s furious at himself for letting this bastard grab you. He’s furious at the bastard for doing this to you. And he’s furious at you, for egging the guy on. He’s so angry every time you laugh in this monster’s face and mock him. Every sarcastic quip earns you a slice with the knife or a slap across the face. And it’s killing him to watch.

And yet, he can’t help but also feel pride every time you do it. Every insult is so perfectly timed, so flawlessly delivered. Exactly the way he would do it. He’s pissed at you, but he has to admit, he’s also impressed by you. Constantly.

Sam’s been desperately trying to search for your location for hours. It’s been over 24 hours since they lost you and the other victims only lasted for about 48 hours until they were dead. You weren’t like the other victims, Dean knew that, but this guy was also definitely going extra hard on you. Sam keeps going on about IP addresses and bouncing servers and all Dean knows is that it means he hasn’t found you yet. And he’s starting to really worry. Even though your humor and defiance isn’t fading in the least, he can see that your energy is. You’re losing blood all over the place and the son of a bitch isn’t slowing down. His heart jumps to his throat when he sees your breathing is slowing down and you’re struggling to hold your head up.

“I think I got something, Dean.” Sam perks up. “Not an exact location but I’m getting close. Should just be a couple more minutes.” Dean doesn’t know how he did it, he doesn’t really even care.

“Hurry it up, Sam,” is all he replies.

“Looks like you could use a break, pretty girl.” He hears the werewolf croon through the screen. “I’ll be back in just a bit. Keep an eye on her for me, will you, boys?” He laughs as he exits Dean’s line of sight and then the cabin.

Dean sees you lift your head and cough, spitting blood onto the floor in front of you before smiling and looking up at the camera. “Finally,” you laugh, “I thought he’d never leave. Guess my plan didn’t work so seamlessly after all, huh?” You shrug. “Oops.”

You tug on your restraints but they hardly budge. “Son of a bitch just had to use handcuffs. But don’t worry, I totally… have this… under control.” Your words begin to fade.

“I got her!” Sam exclaims. “15 minutes outside of town in the middle of the woods!”

Within seconds, the boys are in the Impala racing towards your location. Dean’s doing 20 over the speed limit and they still have the stream up on Sam’s laptop, making sure you’re okay until they reach you.

“Hey… do me… a favor, boys. Look away… from the screen… for a second.” You mumble. They exchange confused looks.

“I’m betting… you haven’t done it yet… but if you don’t… look away… right now… so help me… I will kill you both… when I get out of here. I need… to get a lock pick… from a location… I’d rather the two of you… didn’t see. Either you respect women… or you don’t… it’s pretty simple.”

With that, their eyes go wide with embarrassment and Sam tilts the screen down and they both look away until they hear you say, “Okay guys… you can look.” When the screen is tilted up, sure enough, there’s a very small metal bar in your hand.

“How the hell…” Dean wonders aloud. They watch as you begin meticulously picking at the lock on the cuffs on your right hand. As you’re doing that, they hear the cabin door open and see the werewolf make his way back onto the screen and slowly pick his knife back up.

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking,” he muses, “I’m really quite sick of your attitude. So, I think we really need to step it up a notch. Why don’t we find out how long it takes for your heart to pump all the blood out of out of your body after you’ve got a few nice, deep cuts? And once it’s all gone, I’ll rip that sweet little heart right out of your chest and have myself some dinner? How does that sound?” Dean watches you smirk up at the bastard, ready to spit back a witty comeback, as the werewolf brings the blade down to your wrist and slices slowly.

“No, no, no come on Sweetheart, hang on! We’re almost there!” He presses down on the gas a little harder.

“3 minutes away, Dean. We’re gonna make it.” Sam assures him.

They pull up outside the cabin just as the werewolf is raising knife on the screen once again. They jump out of the car and run up to the cabin, guns in hand. Dean kicks the door down and barrels in, gun raised. Just in time to –

Just in time to watch you pulling your blade out of the douchebag’s heart with your somehow no longer handcuffed right hand. His body slumps to the ground in front of you and you face the boys.

“Oh hey guys,” you smirk, “Told you I had a silver blade stashed.”

The boys are frozen in shock for only a few seconds until they see your blade slip from your hands and your head loll as you struggle to keep yourself upright.

“Shit!” Dean exclaims as he runs to you, falling on his knees in front of you and grabbing your face in his hands. Taking in your wounds, his heart sinks. Cuts litter your arms, chest, and neck, including the newest one across your left wrist. Your lip is split, cheekbones cut and bruised from multiple punches to the same spot. He’s afraid to even check your abdomen to see all the bruising there as well. Sam hands him a towel from the kitchen, which he uses to apply pressure to your still steadily bleeding wrist. Sam begins to work on releasing you from the remaining cuffs and Dean desperately tries to keep you conscious.

He holds your face tight in his hands as he holds your head up and stares into your unfocused eyes. “Hey, Sweetheart, look at me. Look at me. We’re right here. You did it. You didn’t even need us. I told you you’re a badass.”

You smile gently and finally focus your eyes on his, “Didn’t… need you… to tell me that.”

A pained laugh escapes his mouth and he smiles, rubbing his thumbs across your bruised cheeks. “You scared the hell outta me, Y/N.”

You’re still looking at him, but now you’re giving him that stare that goes past his eyes and into his soul. The stare that only the two of you seem to share. He feels you reassuring him without words. Once again, you’re the victim and yet you’re making him feel better. “I’m okay, Dean.” You whisper.

Sam’s finally unlocking the last of your cuffs and they’re helping you stand from the chair and walking you to the car. You lay down in the back seat and rest as they quickly burn the body and join you in the car.

The drive home is relatively quiet until Dean finally speaks up, “What the hell were you thinkin’, huh?”

You suddenly feel like a little kid being scolded. “Excuse me?”

“We could’ve lost you. And you just couldn’t stop taunting the guy.”

You just chuckle in return and he half turns to try to glare at you while Sam just looks on silently. “I’m serious, Y/N! He could’ve killed you! He just kept going and going and it was almost like you wanted him too!”

It’s true. This is how you hunt. You’re not careless when it comes to planning, and research, and tracking down monsters. But you are careless when it comes to your own well-being. You’d be lying if you said part of you didn’t enjoy the risk, the danger… and the pain. And you are that way because the life you’ve been forced to live has made you that way. For much of your life, pain is all you’ve known. And it’s damaged you past the point of repair. You know that. You’re not proud of it, but it’s the truth. But that doesn’t mean you want them to see that.

“Dean,” You say in a calming tone, “I’m fine.”

But he doesn’t listen. “You were pushin’ him to do more, makin’ the bastard think you were ENJOYING it! It’s reckless and dangerous, and it could get you killed next time!”

“Dean!” You say a little louder, to get his attention and stop his ranting. He does stop, so you go on. “Look… I’m sorry. I get it, okay? I shouldn’t have pushed it that far. But, I’m fine. I handled it. We handled it. No more need to worry. I’m good.”

You see his shoulders relax slightly, “Good.”

“Besides…” You hum, “you gotta admit there are times that a little pain and some handcuffs can be enjoyable.”

You watch them both stiffen up in their seats and Sam lets out a nervous chuckle. Dean clears his throat but then you see him smirk in the rearview mirror. “Well, you’re not wrong about that, Sweetheart.”

A few moments of silence go by before Dean speaks again.

“So, uh,” He clears his throat, “Your secret lock pick?”

Sam rolls his eyes and chuckles, “I’ve been waiting for that.” But, he does turn towards you, clearly just as curious as his brother.  
You smile, “Strategic body piercings that double as lock picks when necessary.”

“Piercings?” Dean questions, emphasizing the plurality of your response.

“Yeah, well, I want my nipples to be symmetrical.”

Sam can’t help but bust out into a huge grin while Dean coughs and shifts in his seat. “Well, that is uh… very innovative.”

The rest of the ride home is silent, but Dean’s head is now filled with plenty of images he can’t push out of his mind… not that he’s really trying to.


	7. Chapter 7

When you arrive back to the hotel, the boys bring you into their room to more thoroughly assess your wounds, despite your constant assurance that you’re fine. Once they finally agree that nothing’s broken and the cut on your wrist doesn’t need stitches, you suddenly realize how exhausted you are and how desperately you need a shower. After another assurance that you’ll be fine and can handle showering on your own, you’re about to leave the boys’ room and head to yours.

Before you reach the door though, you hear Dean blurt from behind you, “Come with us.”

You spin around in confusion, “What?”

Dean looks over at Sam, who seems to know exactly what Dean is offering and nods in agreement. Dean looks back to you, “To the bunker. Come with us. The hunt is over here and Metatron’s on the move again. We need to go back to the bunker to figure out our next move. You could come. Follow us back there in your truck. You’re an amazing hunter, we could use your help. And the place is huge, you could have your pick from any of the rooms and-"

“Dean, I… I can’t.” You respond, watching the instant disappointment on both brothers’ faces. “I mean, I appreciate the offer I just… I can’t.”

You don’t know what else to say, and you quickly rush out of the room. Your chest tightens as you enter your room and close the door behind you. You walk to the bathroom, turn the water on as hot as it’ll go, strip your bloody clothes off, and stand under the water, letting it wash over your wounds as you close your eyes tightly.

You’re overwhelmed. Not only by their offer, but by how badly you want to accept it. These boys are suddenly the only people who mean anything to you, and that terrifies you. You’ve done so well on your own all this time. Not having anyone you cared about meant not having anything to lose. And now, the thought of losing them was making it hard to breathe. You don’t want to burden them. You’re reckless and angry and trouble and pain follow you literally everywhere you go. You don’t want to put that on them. But then again, if anyone could handle it…

No, you already said no. You made the choice. It’ll be better for you and for them in the long run. You sigh and turn the water off, stepping out and wrapping a fresh towel around your body. You exit the bathroom just as you hear a quiet knock at your door.

Your breath hitches, but you find yourself walking over to open the door anyway. There’s a slight look of surprise on Dean’s face when he sees you in only a towel, soaking wet. He looks you up and down and swallows hard.

“Can I come in?”

You nod and step back, allowing him to enter. You face him as he stands in the middle of the room. He sighs deeply and begins, “I’m sorry.”

“Dean, you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry. For just running out like that.”

“No, I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. And I’m an idiot for thinking you’d wanna come live with us in the first place.” He says as he rubs the back of his neck and stares down at his boots.

You shake your head. “No, Dean, it isn’t like that. I just…” You struggle to find the right words. To express what you’re really feeling.

“I mean, why would you wanna be under the same roof as me… why would you wanna have to stare across the table at my face every time you sit down for breakfast…” He mumbles to himself, shaking his head, “…after everything I’ve done…”

You suddenly realize what he’s saying and take a step towards him. “Dean, I told you I forgive you. I meant that.”

“I know, and I believe you. But that doesn’t mean you wanna have to be around me all the time.” You can see the pain all over his face and you take another step towards him, now only inches away, causing him to finally tear his eyes away from his boots and look at your face.

You look deeply into his eyes, and he does the same, searching yours for some kind of answer. After what feels like an eternity, you gather up the courage to speak, “I didn’t say no because I don’t want to be around you. I said no because I’m afraid of how much I do.”

He furrows his brows in confusion and you continue.

“Dean, I have been… alone… my entire life. And things have been easy that way. Simple. And then you and Sam come along and I go from never caring at all for anyone to suddenly caring so much.” You’re searching his eyes to see if what you’re saying is even making any sense.

Realization and understanding wash over his features and he opens his mouth like he’s about to speak, but nothing comes out. Now that you’ve started, you can’t stop, so you just keep going.

“So when the two of you invited me to come with you, it scared the hell out of me. It made me realize that for the first time, I have something to lose. Someone to lose. Two of them. I told myself that saying no would mean everything could go back to the way it was. Before I ever ran into you guys. But, I know… deep down, I know that things will never go back to the way they were. That I’m in too deep now. And that terrifies me more than any monster ever could.”

The two of you just stand there in silence for a while. You’re holding your towel tightly around you, your wet hair dripping onto the floor. Suddenly, Dean cracks a smile and chuckles to himself.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“Nothing”, he laughs. “It’s just… you sound just like me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, typically, I’m the one who never lets anyone in because I’m too afraid to lose ‘em. And yet, here I am practically begging you to come with us.”

You don’t say anything, you just stand there studying his face as he goes on, “Look, I’m scared too. Pretty much anyone Sam and I have ever cared about has ended up dead. Because of us. But, Y/N… there’s something different about you. You can handle yourself. Hell, I have a feeling you’ll always get yourself in trouble with or without us.”

You smile at that and he continues once again.

“Sam and I care about you, too. And you can’t deny that we all seem to just… fit. So please, all I’m askin’… is that you think about it, okay? The invitation is out there and it’s not going anywhere. If you change your mind, Sam and I are leavin’ tomorrow morning at 8.”

With that, he gives you one last hopeful smile and looks down as he walks past you toward the door. You turn around just in time to see him closing the door behind him.

The next morning, the boys are carrying all of their bags out of their room to the Impala, when they’re stopped dead in their tracks.

You’re leaning against your truck, sunglasses on, keys in hand, and a smirk on your face.

Sam’s face lights up as they walk up to you, and a relieved grin spreads across Dean’s face. You push yourself off your truck and take a step forward.

“Alright then, boys, lead the way.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick chapter about the reader arriving to the bunker with the boys and everyone getting settled in.

After a long drive, you finally make it to the bunker. Pulling up, you’re confused by how the outside of the place looks. It definitely doesn’t fit with the bunker they were describing to you. But, the annoyingly unconditional and inexplicable trust you have in them tells you to just keep following them. You’re suddenly parking your truck next to the Impala in a garage full of cars and bikes. You make a mental note to take one of those motorcycles on a joy ride as soon as you get a chance.

You get out of the truck and follow the boys inside, your curiosity increasing with every step. You have to admit, you’re kind of excited. Suddenly, the door is opening and the sight in front of you nearly takes your breath away.

The first thing you see is the large metal staircase. Beyond that, you are greeted with a wide open room, a massive, lit up table with map on top. You walk down the stairs in amazement, and run your hand along the map on the table. You wander in further and see a library, covered wall to wall in books of all kinds. Your eyes are wide as you take in the varying titles, already deciding on a few that you can’t wait to get your hands on. You turn to see the boys watching you with grins plastered on their faces.

“What’s so funny?” You demand.

“Nothing, nothing,” Dean chuckles, “You’re just… cute, that’s all. Never seen you speechless before.”

You roll your eyes and your cheeks blush. “Never had a… place… before.”

Sam laughs, “Home, Y/N. You can call it home. It’s your home for as long as you want it to be.”

You smile and continue down the corridors, amazed by how many rooms there truly are. You peek into each one, excitedly taking all of the details into account so that you can choose the best one for your own. Eventually, you land on one that seems to call out to you more than the others. You walk in slowly and look around. It’s small, and simple, and completely perfect. There’s a bed and a couple of dressers and it already feels more like home than anything ever has before.

“So, you like this one?”

You turn around to see Dean leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, smile on his face.

“Yeah, I think this might be the one.” You smile back. He begins to chuckle.

“NOW what’s so funny?” You question.

“Well, you picked the room right next door to me.” He smirks.

You raise your eyebrows, “Oh well in that case, forget it.” You smirk right back, “I’d rather be neighbors with Sam.”

“You know, Sweetheart,” He takes two long strides and suddenly he’s inches from you.

He leans in and whispers, “Somehow, I just don’t think that’s true.” His gravelly whisper sends a chill down your spine.

You lick your lips and are about to answer when you both hear Sam bellow from down the hall, “Pizza or burgers?”

“Burgers!” You and Dean shout back at the same time, not breaking eye contact. You grin at each other, neither one of you wanting to break eye contact first.

Finally, you ask “So, where are the showers? I could really use a hot one right about now.”

He licks his lips and leans a little closer.

“Down the hall, to the left. Need an escort?” The mischief in his eyes is so tempting, you almost say yes.

Finally, you step back and say, “I think I’ll manage.” Then you walk right past him with a wink and a smile. He leans his head back, puffs his cheeks out, and slowly releases a long breath, reeling from the affect you have on him.

You’re thrilled to discover that the showers are amazing. You head back to your room and change into a tank top and comfortable shorts, and head out to the main room for dinner. You stop dead in your tracks when you see a dark-haired man in a trench coat sitting at the table alone. He notices you too, and looks up at you with piercing blue eyes. He looks instantly uncomfortable.

“Oh, uh, hello. You must be Y/N.” He stands up and makes his way over to you. He self-consciously extends a hand and you slowly reach out to shake it. You can tell just by his awkwardness who he is, based on how the boys described him.

“And you must be Cass.” You smile, “And why did the boys fail to mention just how handsome you are?”

He blushes and clears his throat.

“Oh, uh… I don’t think… I don’t think Sam and Dean look at me in that light and therefore have no opinion on whether or not I am, in fact, handsome.”

You begin laughing and he smiles slightly, “They did, however, mention your beauty. They were completely accurate in that regard.”

You stop laughing and blush as he continues.

“Especially Dean. He said something along the lines of," He clears his throat and changes his voice to mimic Dean's, "‘Cass, you gotta see her, she is so effing h-‘"

“OKAY there, Cowboy,” Dean interrupts as he enters the room, “That’s enough of that.” He laughs nervously as he slaps Cass on the shoulder.

“Glad to see you two have met. Sam should be back with the grub any minute.”

You eye him curiously but just smile again at Cass as Dean ushers you to sit at the long table in the middle of the room.

“Beer?” he asks, and you nod eagerly.

Sam soon arrives with dinner and the four of you sit around the table, eating, drinking, and having a genuinely good time. For the first time, you’re all asking each other questions that don’t have to do with past hunts or dead family members. You’re discussing your birthdays, your favorite movies, favorite foods, favorite drinks, favorite music.

Deans eyes you like a smitten teenager when you tell them your favorite songs is “Night Moves” by Bob Seger and you cheers him when he tells you his are Zeppelin songs. You talk passionately about your favorite movie. You all argue over what the best Rolling Stones’ song is, over the best flavor of pie, and you and Dean have a lengthy debate over the best WWE wrestlers of all time. You look around at the three boys in front of you and for the first time, since you were 10 years old with your father, you realize… you’re at home.

(Dean’s POV)

This is one of the best nights he’s had in a very long time. The mark is a distant thought, and he hardly even remembers it’s there. You’re all downing beers and laughing and sharing and for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel like the world is ending. And then, your eyes light up as you talk about how amazing Bob Seger is and his heart skips a beat. He’s enamored by your passion as you explain to them why your favorite movie is the greatest movie of all time, and he has to admit, he absolutely loves it too. And then, you’re suddenly debating him about WWE wrestlers and he realizes you might know more about them than he does. Where the hell did you come from? 

He’s tuning everything else out, watching you instantly make best friends with Cass and laugh with Sam about concepts he isn’t even smart enough to understand. You finish your bacon cheeseburger like a champ, and down your beers just as quickly as he does. Your wet hair is drying in messy waves and he has to hold his breath when he sees your long legs in your shorts as you stride over to the fridge to get everyone another round. He realizes his cheeks hurt from smiling and for the first time in a very, very long time, Dean Winchester is happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to add the bit about Seger because Night Moves actually is my favorite song (just saw Seger in concert, he was amazing) and we know Dean loves him too so I couldn't help myself. Thanks everyone for reading, I have a few more chapters written up, but I really wanna edit them and make sure I like them before I post. I'll be posting more soon!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader continues to bond with Cass, Sam, and of course, Dean.

You’ve been at the bunker for a little over a week now, and you’ve been loving every minute. The boys are both in bed and you’re taking advantage of the library. You’re seated in a chair next to one of the bookshelves, flipping through a book about ancient species of monsters, completely lost in the pages, when a deep voice sounds just a few feet in front of you.

“You’re up very late.”

You jump and look up to find Castiel standing in front of you, staring down at you, looking perplexed. Ever since you got here he tends to look at you like he knows you. Like he’s trying to figure out how. The same way Dean used to look at you before he remembered you.

“Jesus, Cass!” You whisper. “You scared the shit outta me.”

“I apologize. That wasn’t my intention.” He responds sheepishly.

You chuckle. “No, no. It’s fine. What are you doing?”

“Well, I don’t sleep. And I noticed that you were also... not sleeping. So I thought you would possibly like some company.”

You grin up at him before leaning over and dragging another chair over next you, then patting the seat while looking back up at him.

He smiles back and takes a seat.

“So… why aren’t you sleeping? It’s surprising to me to meet a human who sleeps even less than Sam and Dean.”

You chuckle again. “Yeah, I mean… sometimes I sleep okay. Just, other times…” You trail off slightly before clearing your throat. “Other times it’s just easier to stay awake.”

“You have nightmares.” Cass states.

You just look at him, slightly surprised. He looks back at you, realizing he should elaborate.

“Something I’ve learned about hunters. Just… most of them have nightmares.”

You look down at your hands in your lap and sigh.

“Yeah. Yeah, there are definitely nightmares. But… I’m used to those. That’s not the reason I’m up so late right now.”

“Then, what is?”

You don’t know what it is about these guys. All of them, just cracking through your exterior over and over again when you don’t expect it.

“I’m happy here.” You answer him.

He looks at you, confused. “I don’t understand.”

You go on. “I mean… I love it here. Every room, every book, every last detail. It’s incredible. I guess, I’m just so excited about it all that I can’t sleep. I don’t want to miss any of it. I don’t…” You look at him and see his bright blue eyes listening intently, waiting for you to continue.

You sigh. “I don’t know how long it’s going to last. Me being here. So I just want to enjoy every bit of it while it lasts.”

Cass just looks at you quizzically for a few seconds. “Why wouldn’t it last?”

You’ve been thinking about this since you got here. The reason you almost didn’t come in the first place. You worry all the time that one day the boys will realize how messed up you are and won’t want you around anymore. When it comes to being on your own, you are more than confident. When it comes to relying on others, you’re incredibly uncomfortable.

Cass can see you in your own head and somehow knows what you’re thinking.

“Sam and Dean, they want you here. That isn’t going to change.”

You shoot him a look of surprise, but he goes on.

“We may not know each other well, Y/N. But, I do know Sam and Dean very well. They feel very strongly toward you. And they never invite others to come stay here, but they invited you. That makes you special. When I was human, they didn’t even want me to stay here.”

You laugh at that, and he smiles.

“Well, thank you, Cass. I am happy to be here. And happy to meet you.” You pat him on the shoulder before standing up to return your book to it’s place on the shelf.

“So, what do you do all night when you’re here, then?” You ask him as you turn around to face him.

“Well, I uh…” He thinks briefly. “Mostly I just… sit.”

You chuckle. “Really? You’ve never stayed up all night reading books or binge watching movies?”

“No. I don’t… well, I really don’t watch movies.” He states.

That gives you an idea. You grin, grab his hand, and drag him into the kitchen. You dig into the cabinets and surprisingly, find what you’re looking for. You pull out the bag of popcorn and stick it in the microwave.

Cass watches you for a moment. “Uh, Y/N… you know I don’t eat, right?” Cass asks, confused.

“Doesn’t matter.” You respond with a smirk. “It’s all part of the experience.”

“What experience?”

The microwave dings and you grab the popcorn before grabbing Cass’ hand again and dragging him down the hall to a room with a couch, a few chairs, and a TV. You sit him down on the couch and he watches you as you excitedly pick out a list of movies to watch. You sit down next to him, hand him the bag of popcorn, and start the first movie.

Five hours later, you and Cass are laughing and joking and tossing popcorn into each other's mouths as your third movie is ending. It’s then that you both notice Sam and Dean shuffling into the doorway, all messy hair and yawns.

“What… in the world?” Dean mumbles.

“It’s 7 AM… have you two been in here all night?” Sam asks.

You and Cass just look at each other and chuckle.

“Guess so.” You shrug.

Sam just laughs and walks down the hall to get his coffee. Dean eyes you both with what looks like just the slightest bit of jealousy, before yawning once more and following his brother down the hall.

You and Cass chuckle again before you stand with a yawn, deciding you should probably sleep for at least a couple of hours.

“Thanks for that, Cass. That was fun. I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

“I feel the same, Y/N.” He says with a grin. You wink at him before turning to head down the hall to your room.

What you don’t see is the way he watches you, perplexed, feeling like maybe he does know you, but just not quite sure how.

After getting in a few hours of sleep, you wake up and decide to go grocery shopping, because you’ve never really been able to do that before since you’ve never really had anywhere to bring groceries back to before. And, despite never really having a full kitchen, you’re a kick ass chef. You’re halfway up the steps out of the bunker when you hear Sam behind you.

“Hey, Y/N, wait up!” You pause and spin around to see Sam jogging out from the hallway. “Where you headed?”

“Just gonna run out for some groceries. You guys aren’t exactly fully stocked here.” You chuckle.

He grins. “Yeah, we tend to order in a lot. Mind if I tag along? Cass is off following a Metatron lead, Dean’s napping, and there’re a few things I wanted to get too.”

You agree, and you even offer to drive. Your old Ford pickup is a piece of junk next to literally every car in the garage, but you love it. The ride to the grocery store is pretty quick, and Sam points out all of his favorite restaurants, bars, and running spots on the way. It’s a beautiful day and you’re loving driving through this little Kansas town.

At the store, you and Sam gather up all your favorite snacks, some pie for Dean, health foods for Sam, and you get the ingredients to make your best dish from scratch. It’s your specialty and you know the boys are gonna love it – they don’t have a choice. Sam shows you a scenic route to take home, and you just cruise for a while, listening to the classic rock playlist you always play in your truck.

You turn the music down a little and glance over at Sam.

“So, a lawyer, huh?” You ask with an eyebrow raised.

He chuckles. “Yeah, hah. That was a lifetime ago.”

“But, Stanford…” You say. “I mean, that’s a big deal. I’m proud of you.”

He looks at you in surprise and confusion.

“What?” You laugh.

“You’re proud of me?”

“Hell yeah. You know, I can tell… that you don’t feel like it’s something to be proud of anymore. Like, because it was so long ago and because you had to give it up that it doesn’t count anymore. But Sam, I don’t care how long ago it was. You should be proud of it. And I can’t imagine how difficult it was, but you should also be proud of the fact that you gave it up to save people, every single day. Sorry if I’m overstepping, I just… you gotta know how incredible that makes you, right?”

He just looks at you, a little stunned. “Huh. Uh, no. No one’s ever really said anything like that before.”

“Well, I’m saying it.”

He smiles thoughtfully. “I’ve never… huh… wow. Thank you, Y/N. That means… a lot.”

You smile back. “No problem, Ivy League.”

He laughs, and you’re both silent for a couple moments. Suddenly, he turns the music down even more and turns to you.

“Where the hell did you come from?”

You laugh and furrow your brows. “What?”

“I just mean…” He searches for the words. “You just FIT, y’know? It’s only been a few days but it already feels like we’ve known you so much longer. Like you were just supposed to end up here… with us.”

Your heart swells at his words but you don’t answer right away.

“Did that sound completely weird and creepy?” He laughs nervously.

“No,” You smile. “It sounded like exactly how I’ve been feeling too. It’s crazy but… it’s true.”

“And Dean…” He trails off.

“What about Dean?” You ask.

“Y/N, you haven’t seen what he’s been like. With the Mark. I’ve been scared I was losing my brother. And then you show up and… he’s Dean again. I mean, the guy was hardly even sleeping and now, not only is he sleeping through the night, he’s taking a NAP right now. I forget he has the Mark. I think HE forgets he has the Mark. No one has done that for him. Not me, not Cass. Just you.”

Your heart is pounding. You’re obviously aware of the inexplicable connection you and Dean have, but you didn’t realize how much of an effect it had on him. You also didn’t realize until right now just how much of an effect it’s having on you. It overwhelms you how fast you’re letting these two in. You’re not sentimental. Hell, you’re hardly even NICE to people. And then the Winchesters show up. Damn them.

“All I’m trying to say… is that I’m glad you’re here, Y/N.”

You smile at him. “I’m really glad that I’m here, too, Sam.”

You pull back up to the bunker and the two of you carry the groceries inside.

“Okay, now you go relax, buddy, because I am making dinner tonight.” You command.

He laughs and raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Sounds good to me.” He heads down the hall to his room and you get to work.

An hour later and you’ve got the entire bunker smelling delicious. It apparently smells good enough to wake Dean from his nap, because he shuffles himself into the kitchen, bedhead and all, to sniff out whatever it is you’re cooking.

“Well, look at you.” He eyes you up and down and grins as he watches you set plates down on the table. “Regular Martha Stewart.”

You roll your eyes. “Martha Stewart is about to kick your sleepy ass.”

He yawns loudly. “Yeah, I haven’t been able to comfortably nap like that in… Hell, I don’t even know how long.”

“Well, glad you were able to relax for once, tough guy.” You grin.

He smiles back and sits down and Sam enters the kitchen too.

“This smells fantastic, Y/N.” He sits down next to Dean.

You place the platter of food in front of them and both of their faces light up.

Dean looks at you, eyes wide, and you chuckle as you sit down across from them.

“Don’t look so surprised. Give me some credit. I know my way around a kitchen even if I’m not used to having one. Plus, you haven’t even tried it yet.”

With that, both boys dig in. They’re nodding and smiling as they eat and you’re pretty sure Dean even winks at you as he takes a giant bite. He’s moaning around bites and rolling his eyes and if it wasn’t for the fact that he had sauce all over his face, you might even think it was sexy. Ah, who are you kidding. It’s sexy, sauce and all.

“Can you cook every night?” Dean says as he chews.

“Nope. Because I’ve heard you make a mean cheeseburger and I’m gonna have to try that.” You say, eliciting a cocky grin from him.

You suddenly take a deep, shaky breath, and both boys stop eating, looking at you with questioning eyes.

“Okay,” You state. “I don’t do this kind of thing so I’m just gonna spit it out.” You look down at your plate of food and begin.

“The last time I had a home, I was ten years old. The last time I had anyone that I cared about or trusted, I was ten years old. I have spent… my ENTIRE life on my own. And I thought that was just how it was going to be. How it was supposed to be. But all of a sudden, you two showed up. And now I CARE. And it is new to me. It’s exhausting and intimidating and… amazing. And I want you two to know that. And I want to say thank you. So… thank you.”

You look up at them, nervous and slightly embarrassed. But they’re both grinning at you, and you instantly feel yourself relax.

“We care about you too, Y/N. We should be thanking you.” Sam says.

“Yeah. Seriously, Sweetheart… you… you made this place complete.” Dean says tenderly.

You grin at both of them, relieved that you got everything off your chest and that they didn’t laugh at you for doing it.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” You announce as you stand and run to the fridge. You return with a big glass bottle.

“Wine…?” Dean asks, looking a little unsure and almost scared.

“Not just any wine.” You say. “Moscato.” The boys just stare at you.

“I thought you were more of a hard liquor kind of girl.” Sam laughs.

“Oh, baby, I’m an “anything-that-makes-me-feel-good” kind of girl.” You wink at Sam, and from the corner of your eye you see Dean shift uncomfortably in his chair.

You chuckle. “Just trust me, guys. This stuff literally tastes like juice.”

You look at Dean and whisper, “It’s sweet.” He clenches his jaw as he watches your lips while you speak.

“It gets you the best kind of drunk. Just try it.” They both simply nod in acceptance. You grin and grab three glasses, and pour one for each of you. They both hesitantly take a sip, and then another, and then they exchange glances before looking back at you. You look between the two of them in anticipation.

“Well?”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Dean drawls, grinning at you as he raises his glass.

“Yuh… that’s uh… that’s good.” Sam agrees as he raises his.

You grin from ear to ear.

“Good. Because there are two more bottles in the fridge.” They laugh and you raise your glass to theirs.

The three of you easily finish the first bottle as you finish your meals. They help you clean up dinner and you all sit around the map table as you open up the second bottle. You and Sam get into a lengthy conversation about your favorite serial killers and Dean watches in awe as he realizes you’re just as weird as his brother is.

You finish most of the second bottle and start to notice the wine’s effects. All three of you are just a little bit sillier than usual, and you can tell that none of you are very drunk, but you’re definitely all wine drunk.

“Well, you were right Y/N,” Sam says as he gulps down the last of what’s currently in his glass, “I feel great.”

You and Dean both laugh at him and Dean says, “Uh-oh, I think the giant’s got a wine buzz.”

You giggle at that and Dean’s head snaps your way with a cheeky smirk.

“What?” You ask, suddenly concerned.

“You just giggled. I’ve never heard you giggle before.”

You roll your eyes, “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” He insists. “And it was fucking adorable.”

Your cheeks are suddenly flushed and your heart starts beating a little faster as he stares into your eyes.

Sam clears his throat, which slightly cuts the sudden tension between you and Dean as you break eye contact to look at him.

“Well, uh, I’m gonna head to bed. But I’m taking this.” He picks up the bottle of wine from the table, shuffles backwards for a few steps, winks at you and Dean, and then turns to head to his room.

You and Dean both laugh at him before Dean turns to face you again.

“Well, after my nap today, I’m not tired yet.”

You look down at the wine in your glass. “I’m not either.”

He smiles. “You wanna go for a drive?”

Your eyes snap up to his face. “Dean, you’re a little drunk, too.” You laugh. “You can’t drive anywhere.”

He chuckles, “Don’t worry. It’s not far.”

He gets up, grabs the last bottle of wine from the fridge, and walks up to you, reaching his hand out. You take it, and he leads you up the stairs and out to Baby. You get in, still a little hesitant, and the engine roars to life. Dean looks at you, smirks, and then just backs out of the garage and into the open field just outside. He puts her in park and you look at him in confusion.

He just keeps grinning as he opens his door and gets out, walks over to your side, and opens the door for you. You get out, and he leads you around to the front of the Impala. He helps you up onto the hood, and then jogs back to the front seat. You hear him shuffling around before he walks back with the bottle of wine and you hear music start to sound from the speakers. Your eyes light up when you realize it’s Night Moves. He’s grinning like a little kid as he hops up next to you on the hood of the car. He hands you the bottle of wine and you take it and take a sip.

“Sammy and I have always liked to do this.” He tells you over the music. “In between hunts, when it’s nice out and the sky is clear like this.” He leans back, looking up at the stars.

“Just sit back and take it all in.”

You lean back too. It’s a perfect night. It’s almost fall, so there’s a chill in the air, but with the heat from the car, and the wine, and from Dean… you’re feeling the perfect temperature. You take another sip of the wine and then hand it to Dean. He chuckles at you as you close your eyes and sing along to the song, and you laugh at him when he joins you.

The song ends and “You’ll Accompany Me” comes on next and you laugh again. “Is this… a Seger mix?” You ask.

He nods triumphantly. “That it is. Had it for years.”

You smile at each other for a while until your eyes flick to the Mark on his forearm as he takes a sip of wine. You see him instantly tense up when he realizes that you’re looking at it.

“You know…” You hum out, but he doesn’t look at you, just stares down at the bottle in his hand.

“Everyone says that this thing makes you into big, bad, scary Dean…” You reach your hand out and lightly trace it with your finger tip. He stiffens up even more, clenches his jaw, and swallows hard.

“But right now you’re drinking wine and stargazing while listening to Bob Seger’s greatest love songs.”

He looks at you and you smirk at him, “Doesn’t seem so big, bad, and scary to me.”

A smile creeps across his face and he relaxes. “Yeah, well… Sam seems to think that’s because of you.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think…” He turns towards you and whispers, his voice gruff and low.

“The affect you have on me, Sweetheart, is unlike anything I have ever felt in my life.”

Your heart begins racing and your cheeks flush. His bright green eyes are studying your face, waiting for a response. You’re terrified. You’ve already broken down your walls so much but you’re not sure how much further you can take it. You’re still not sure how much further he wants to take it. Despite that, the music and the wine and those god damn eyes have your heart answering before your brain gets a chance.

“I could say the same to you, Winchester.”

He smiles at you and your heart beats even faster. You take in his beauty in the moonlight and you can feel how badly he wants to kiss you. And part of you wants him to. But part of you is also too afraid to let go that much, to take it that far. And you know he senses that.

It’s almost painful, this tension in the air, the uncertainty. So you decide to end it before you give in to what you know deep down, you really want. You grab the bottle from his hands and take a big swig, and just then “Come to Poppa” starts playing. You both begin to laugh, and the tension eases. You finish the next few songs and the wine in peaceful silence, looking up at the stars, before Dean’s tape ends and he looks over at you.

“Ready?”

You smile, “Ready.” You both get down and back into Baby, and he pulls into the garage slowly. You walk down the stairs and down the hall, each stopping in front of your own doors.

Before you walk in, he turns to you and says “You were right about that wine. I haven’t felt this good in a long time.”

You smile at him, “Told you so.”

You pause as the two of you look intently into each other’s eyes.

Finally, you whisper, “Night, Dean.” And you walk into your room, closing the door behind you.

“Night, Y/N.” He whispers, his eyes lingering for just a few seconds on the spot where you were just standing, before he enters his room and closes his door too.

(Dean’s POV)

He wanted to kiss you so badly. As he sits down on the end of his bed, all he can think about is how desperately he wishes it was your bed instead. But, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kiss you, no matter how badly he wanted to. He sensed every bit of your hesitation. And he doesn’t blame you.

He, of all people, understands what it feels like to be afraid to let someone in. He’s terrified to let you in, too. Nothing good ever comes from that. He knows it will be better for the both of you in the long run if you let it go. If you just try to remain friends. Things will just be easier that way. And yet, every time he looks into those gorgeous eyes of yours…

Nope. He can’t do it. After everything he did to you, whether your forgive him or not, he’d be crazy to think he deserves a chance with you. So, he will hold back. He’ll keep himself in check. He’ll control himself around you.

But, god damn, he has a feeling you are not going to make it easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the development between Dean and the reader is PAINFUL and I'm a total tease but I really wanted to build up the tension between them and really express both of their fears in letting go and opening up to each other. I promise it'll be worth it.
> 
> I'm also a tease when it comes to the reader's backstory, but I have a specific plan for it and how it will all come out so please be patient with me.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley finally shows up and he and the reader see each other after quite some time. The sexual tension between the reader and Dean finally reaches it's breaking point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALERT MAJOR SMUT AHEAD
> 
> I've never written smut before, but I certainly do love it so let's hope that helped me out with this. If you've read this far, then you know it's about damn time for some. Be prepared.
> 
> And enjoy!

It’s been a few days since the night on the Impala with Dean. The tension from that night still hangs in the air between the two of you, but you’ve both been doing a good job of ignoring it. Things are as they’ve been. Cass has returned once again. His lead on Metraton didn’t pan out and it’s clear he just needs a distraction.

Tonight, it’s horror movie marathon night. Dean’s pick. You and Dean are thrilled, but Sam and Cass don’t seem all that excited. You’re sandwiched on the couch between Sam and Dean, and Cass is on the chair next to you guys. You’ve just finished “Halloween” and Dean decides the original “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” is next. You’re only wearing a tank top and shorts – your go to outfit in the comfort of the bunker - and realize you’re chilly, so you tell them to start it as you run to your room to change into sweatpants.

You’re absentmindedly strolling the halls and casually turn into your room, suddenly stopping dead once inside.

Crowley is seated at the end of your bed, smiling up at you.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You whisper angrily.

“Now, love, is that any way to greet an old friend? How many years has it been?” He pauses, eyeing you up and down. “You look magnificent.”

“Oh yeah, Crowley, you’re looking particularly sexy yourself.” You grumble. “Now. What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”

He completely ignores you, “You’re looking much better than the last time I saw you. You know, that day we made our deal.”

You swallow dryly. “Crowley…”

He continues, “I was thrilled when I discovered you and the Winchesters had linked up. You’re so much like them, you know. Tell me dear, do the boys know about the deal we made?”

You take a step forward, “Yes.”

“Ah, but exactly how much do they know? I’d wager you haven’t told them everything…”

You swallow again. “They know enough. They don’t need to know any more. I don’t… I can’t…”

He stands up and steps toward you.

“Relax. I understand. I know we aren’t going to be making friendship bracelets anytime soon, but you and I both know I’ve always liked you. You’ve got something about you.”

You roll your eyes, and he goes on, “I got in quite a bit of trouble for giving you a full three years… the instructions were to only give you one.”

“Yeah, instructions from who?” You glare.

“Now, you know I was just a common crossroads demon back then. I didn’t get to ask where the orders came from, I just followed them. Except for with you. When I came to you that day… Well, let’s just say there were not many situations that had any effect on me. But yours…” He drifts off, looking genuinely pained while remembering the first time he saw you.

You look him in the eyes, “Crowley… they can’t know. I can’t…”

He looks at you earnestly. “It’s not my story to tell, love. It stays between the two of us.”

You close your eyes and let out a relieved breath.

He goes on, “Besides, as overjoyed as I am to see you, that’s not the reason I’m here. I’ve got information for the lot of you. Where are Moose and Squirrel?”

You completely forget you were going to your room to change, and you lead Crowley down the hall to the boys.

As you enter the room, you state flatly, “Look who I found hiding out in my room.”

Sam’s jaw clenches and he sits up straight as soon as he sees Crowley, Cass’ eyes darken, and Dean just rolls his eyes, groaning, “Ugh, Crowley, your timing is the worst. What’s so important that you have to interrupt horror movie night?”

Crowley stands up straight, put his hands in his pockets, and glances at the gore on the TV.

“Yes. Horror movie night. Truly, what a cinematic concept.” He pauses and glances around the room as everyone just stares back silently.

“Right. Well, first, may I just say I think it’s wonderful that Y/N has joined you boys. You’re lucky to have her.” He smiles at you and you just walk past him to reclaim your place between Sam and Dean on the couch.

Dean suddenly sits up straight and serious, “Don’t talk about her. Don’t talk to her. Hell, don’t even look at her.” You smile slightly at his defensiveness over you.

Crowley steps further into the room. “Squirrel, I knew her before you did. She and I go way back and our relationship is special in its own right. Isn’t that right, pet?”

You shoot him a knowing glare and ask, “Crowley, seriously, what is it that you want?”

He grins. “For you, dear, I’ll get right to the point. There’s some demon on demon violence going on in Illinois. Some of my best men have been attacked, unprovoked, by some rogue demons with an unclear motive.”

Sam scoffs and puts on his best bitch face as he asks, “And that’s our problem how?”

Crowley narrows his eyes, “Because five innocent human lives have been lost thus far in the crossfire. There have been random public attacks that result in quite a bit of violence.”

Dean chuckles, “Yeah, Crowley, and since when do you care about human lives?”

“I DON’T, you moron. I care about a potential usurper sending his or her minions to take out my men and COME FOR MY CROWN! But you do care about the human lives. So, the way I see it. We have mutual enemies yet again.”

Cass grumbles deeply, “Why don’t you deal with this yourself, Crowley?”

“Because, Feathers, I just got my rightful place back on the throne. I need to be there. Handling business. Fulfilling promises I made to those who remained loyal to me. I don’t have time for this.”

“Oh, and we do? Did you forget we’re still on the hunt for Metatron?” Sam growls.

Crowley smirks, “From what I hear, you’ve got bupkis. Are you really so consumed with this quest that you’re willing to let innocent people die in the meantime?”

You all fall silent, and he smiles. “That’s what I thought. I’ll leave the specifics on the table on my way out.” He looks at you, winks, and then he’s gone.

Dean groans once more as Sam asks, “Are we really gonna do this? Feels a hell of a lot like a trap.”

You sigh. You were having such a good time relaxing in the bunker lately, you really didn’t want to go anywhere either.

Despite that, you speak up.

“Yeah, but if innocent people really are dying and there really is a chance we could save them, we gotta do something. Plus, if there is another wannabe Abaddon in the works, we might want to get ahead of that and stop it before it starts.”

Sam sighs, “Yeah… you’re right. I’ll go do some research on whatever info Crowley left to see if the deaths check out. I was getting kinda sick of the horror movies anyway. You guys enjoy.” He stands up and heads out of the room.

Cass stands as well, his brow furrowed. “Crowley’s right. We have nothing on Metatron and we are running out of time. I’ve enjoyed these past few days of relaxation very much but I’m afraid I’ve been blinded by how much I enjoy Y/N’s company.”

At that, Dean raises his eyebrows and you chuckle.

Cass goes on, “I should continue the search. I need to focus. You may not be able to reach me for a few days, but if I find anything on Metatron, I’ll let you know.”

Before you or Dean have a chance to respond to him, he’s gone too.

Dean looks at you, disappointed. “Well, there goes horror movie night.”

You smile and stand up, “Oh, I don’t think so, Winchester. I’m gonna go get us some more beer, and you and I are gonna watch Leatherface rip these people apart. You understand?”

A massive grin spreads across his face as he nods, “Yes Ma’am.”

You bring Dean a beer and sit back down, your back against one of the couch arms and your legs bent in front of you, your feet nearly touching Dean’s thigh as he sits face forward on the other end of the couch. The two of you are laughing at the 70’s special effects and ridiculous acting and somehow your legs end up gradually outstretched into Dean’s lap.

He places his hand on your shin and looks at you in surprise.

“Jesus, your legs are freezing!”

You chuckle, “Oh, yeah. I completely forgot I went to my room to change into something warmer when Crowley showed up.”

“Well,” he rakes his eyes slowly up your long legs and meets your gaze, “Maybe I can help with that.”

You’re suddenly aware of your own heavy breathing as you nod subtly and whisper, “Sure.”

He casually looks back to the TV screen as he begins slowly rubbing your legs from your ankle up to your knee. You continue watching the movie too, but you can’t help but keep peeking at him out of the corner of your eye.

You watch his lips as he wraps them around the tip of his beer bottle, and the way his jaw moves as he swallows the beer. You watch as his calloused fingers make their way up and down your leg, and you feel the heat his palms are sending straight up your legs and to your core. He is truly the most beautiful person you have ever seen, and it’s starting to get to you.

You lick your lips and shift your position slightly, trying to get a handle on the arousal you’re suddenly feeling. You avert your attention back to the screen, and notice out of your peripheral vision that he’s now the one looking at you. You feel his eyes trailing up and down your body, landing on your face. You think you see a slight smirk cross his lips as you suddenly feel his hands moving up just a little higher on your legs.

He turns back to the TV and continues his slow, gentle rhythm, but now his hand is moving from your ankle up to the middle of your thigh, and then back down. You swallow hard, but you’re determined to keep your cool. You remain this way for the rest of the movie, silently stealing glances at one another.

When the movie ends, you look at him to find him already staring at you. Your eyes connect briefly and you clear your throat, slowly pulling your legs off of him and turning to face forward.

“I guess we should head to bed, considering we now have a hunt for tomorrow thanks to Crowley.” You say in a hushed tone as you stand.

He nods his head.

“Guess so.” He says, his voice even deeper than usual. He doesn’t stand. He just takes another sip of his drink and stares at the credits rolling on the screen.

The atmosphere in the room is insanely tense, and you watch him for a few seconds, before finally speaking.

“Well, goodnight, Dean.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You head down the hall to your room and take a deep breath before stepping in, trying to shake off the arousal still overwhelming you. As you’re closing the door behind you, a large hand suddenly grabs the edge of the door and stops it from closing.

You spin around, and you’re face to face with Dean, his hand still tightly gripping your door.

He steps forward, and you step back as he enters your room and closes the door behind him without a word. His green eyes are boring into your Y/E/C ones, his jaw clenched, face incredibly serious. You can’t read him and it’s making your heart pound in your chest. He continues to step forward but you stop taking steps backwards, and his face is now only inches from yours.

You’re suddenly aware of the sound of the two of you breathing, both heavy and loud. You have no idea how long the two of you stay this way, but it feels like hours.

Neither of you move, and your stares only intensify as the air seems to get even thicker. Your heart feels as if it’s about to beat right out of your chest and your stomach is flipping. You both know you’ve been fighting this for so long, trying to protect yourselves, knowing once it happens that everything will change.

He leans forward slightly, until his lips are nearly brushing yours, and whispers, “Tell me to stop.”

You swallow hard and lick your lips but you don’t answer. Your shaky breath heats his lips and a low growl of arousal sounds in his throat. His voice is a hushed growl and a desperate whine all at once.

“Tell me to stop.”

The gravel in his voice and the heat of his mouth rip through your entire body all at once and you throw yourself forward, your lips pressing against his with a moan. With that permission, he’s instantly wrapping his arms around you, one hand holding onto your waist as the other wraps around the back of your neck, and he growls into your open mouth. It’s desperate and passionate and in this moment, it feels as though it's impossible for the two of you to get enough of each other.

Your arms are thrown over his shoulders, wrapped around him tightly, fingers tangling into the hairs at the nape of his neck. Your lips are moving together in desperation, tongues dipping in and out, between moaning gasps for air.

You’re pressing your body firmly against his and his hand moves from your hip to your lower back, pulling your body even closer.

You both pull away suddenly, chests heaving, studying each other’s faces, as if you’re both checking to make sure this is really happening.

His pupils are blown wide with lust as he pulls you in again, and you slip your hands underneath his flannel at the shoulders to push it off of him. Once his flannel is off, he slips his hands around your waist and under your butt and lifts you, walking a few steps to your bed and placing you down on your back. His eyes rake over your body and he licks his lips as he reaches over his shoulders, grabs the back of his black t-shirt, and pulls it off over his head.

He stops, standing there for a few seconds when he sees your eyes taking in every inch of him. His jeans are low on his waist, the top of his boxers peeking out over them. You bite down hard on your bottom lip as your eyes scan his bare chest. You silently admire how toned he is, his body formed by a perfect balance of hand-to-hand combat and bacon cheeseburgers. You appreciate his impeccably-placed tattoo, and the freckles littering his smooth skin. The muscles in his shoulders and arms are perfectly sculpted, and you’re suddenly desperate to have them wrapped around you.

He must see the desperation in your eyes because he slowly moves forward until he’s kneeling over you, leaning down on his forearms. He studies your face again, as if he’s trying to memorize every detail, before bringing his lips down on yours once more. This time, the kiss is slow and sensual, but no less desperate. You place your hands on either side of his face as your lips move together.

You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him down, until his whole body is pressed up against yours. He growls deep in his throat as you grind your hips against his hard dick through his jeans. He grinds back into you and you moan, feeling yourself getting wetter by the second. You continue grinding into each other as he kisses and nips along your jaw and his hands roam underneath your tank top, up your ribs, and to your bra.

He inhales deeply when he feels your lace-covered breasts in his hands and pulls away from kissing you to help you lift your tank top over your head. He admires your bra briefly before his eyes are drawn to your own Devil’s Trap tattoo on your ribcage, just underneath your left breast. He lets out a sigh of arousal as he slowly traces the tattoo with his thumb and bites his lip before finally lifting your bra over your head. He groans in pleasure when he finally looks down at your bare chest and takes your breasts in his hands. You moan at the feeling of his hands on you as he gently squeezes your nipples.

He huffs out, “The most incredible fucking lock picks I have ever seen.” And you laugh breathlessly before arching your back, pushing yourself further into his touch. He leans down and continues kissing your jaw and neck as he squeezes and rubs your nipples.

He brings his lips to the outside of your ear and breathes, “I need to make you feel good.”

A chill visibly runs down your spine and he lifts his head, taking your face in his hands to make sure you’re looking into his eyes. To make sure you truly hear what he’s saying.

“After all the bad I’ve done. Y/N, I need to make you feel good.”

You understand what he means, and his desperation to bring you pleasure only turns you on even more. He takes time to take each of your nipples in his mouth, sucking on them and flicking them with his tongue. He kisses between your breasts and then starts moving down your stomach slowly, kissing the whole way. He stops just above the top of your shorts, hooking his fingers in the waistline.

Slowly, he pulls them off of you, and grunts out in lust when he sees you have nothing on under them and you are completely bare in front of him. He runs his calloused hands up and down your thighs before spreading them gently. His breath hitches when he looks down at your soaking pussy and his eyes are brimming with need and hunger.

He leans down, his mouth right above your desperate clit. He breathes on the bundle of nerves and you moan his name, which pulls a growl from his own throat. With that, he lowers his mouth onto you and takes your clit inside. He sucks gently while his tongue flicks up and down. You’re instantly writhing under him at the pleasure and he wraps his forearms under your thighs, hands gripping the inside of them tightly to hold you in place as he works.

He pulls back, and licks the entire length of your folds slowly multiple times before his tongue lands back on your clit. He licks up and down once again, this time hard and slow, applying just the right amount of pressure to start your orgasm building already. You’re arching your back, pressing yourself further into his mouth.

He removes his right hand from your thigh and dips his index finger into you slowly, following that with his middle finger. You whimper at the feeling of his fingers inside you, and he curls them, instantly finding your sweet spot. He continues to lick your clit, applying pressure with his tongue as he curls and uncurls his fingers inside you in perfect rhythm.

You moan, “Oh, fuck, Dean.” And he growls at the sound of his name on your lips. He quickens his pace and you feel yourself about to snap.

“Dean… I’m… gonna…” You whine as you look down at him.

He looks up at you, his green eyes piercing into you, and lifts his mouth from your clit only long enough to command, “Cum for me, Y/N.”

With that, you’re letting go completely and cumming hard on his fingers. Your legs shake as the waves of pleasure roll through your entire body, and he pumps his fingers into you until he can see you coming down from the high. You’re panting hard, nearly in shock from how he’s just made you feel, but you’re out of it for only a few seconds before you realize how badly you need to make him feel good as well.

You sit up, and move yourself to the end of the bed until you’re face to face with him. You kiss him deeply, tasting yourself on his lips. You push him back until he’s now standing at the end of the bed. You stand up too, kiss him again, and spin him around so that he’s facing away from the bed. You give him a mischievous smirk before dropping to your knees in front of him.

He closes his eyes, inhales sharply, and leans his head back, breathing out, “Oh, fuck.”

You quickly undo his belt and unbutton his pants, and pull down his jeans and boxers just enough to release his cock. It bounces out, inches from your lips, and you’re suddenly aware of the throbbing of your core again. He’s perfect. Every last inch of him.

You look up at him with a desperate hunger as you stick your tongue out as far as it will go. You hold eye contact with him as you slowly run your tongue from the tip of his dick to the base, then back up to the tip. He groans deep in his throat and rolls his hips toward you. You flick your tongue over his head a few more times before taking the entirety of his him into your mouth.

You pull it out and take it down sloppily a few more times, making sure it’s coated with your saliva. Then, you take him down even further until his tip is in your throat and your lips are wrapped around the base of his cock. His entire body jolts in surprise and he grabs a handful of your hair.

“Fuck! Y/N…” He whines out in desperation and pleasure as he furrows his eyebrows and squeezes his eyes shut. Hearing him whine your name and seeing him so vulnerable has you aching for more of him. You hold your breath and hold this position for a few more seconds before pulling yourself off of him completely.

He looks down at you and you look up at him and he just breathlessly pants, “Wow.”

You smile briefly before taking a hold of the base of his cock with your right hand, wrapping your lips around his head once again. You work your wrist in a circular motion, rhythmically twisting your hand in one direction while moving your lips and tongue in another.

He grunts, “You are gonna fucking kill me.” And you pick up your pace. He grips your hair tighter and you feel his dick twitch as he moans out and in that second, you once again take him all the way down so he’s cumming hard into the back of your mouth. You swallow, slurping up as much as you can as you pull your mouth off of him. He pants hard for a few seconds before helping you stand.

You look deep into each other’s eyes and he studies your face before whispering, “You are fucking incredible.”

You grin and he kisses you again, picking you up and spinning you around, once again placing you down onto the bed. He takes his pants and boxers off completely, and crawls up the bed until his body is once again above yours. He presses his forehead against yours, and the both of you close your eyes, breathing in the moment.

You can hear your heart beating in your chest, and despite how badly you want him, you realize how afraid you still are to let go all the way. He pulls back, looking into your eyes, past your eyes, and deep into your soul, saying a million things to you without speaking at all. You return his gaze, and run your fingers gently along the mark on his arm. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. When you feel him slowly pushing inside of you, you inhale sharply, realizing you’re breaking down the last barrier between the two of you.

He pauses and takes your face in his hands as he whispers, “Hey. Relax, Sweetheart. You can trust me. You can let me in. I promise, everything is gonna be okay. I promise.”

With those words, you feel every last bit of tension leave your body. You wrap your hands around the back of his neck and beg, “Do it, Dean. Please. I need you.”

With that, he pushes in all the way, bottoming out inside of you. The electricity between you hits the both of you full force and in that instant, you both gasp in shock and pleasure as he fills you up. You wrap your arms around him and dig your nails into his back, and he holds your face in his right hand and wraps his left hand around your back, holding you steady as he begins pumping into you.

His thrusts are long, steady, and consistent as he pulls himself out of you almost completely and then snaps his hips, filling you back up, over and over again. You whine his name and he slowly begins to speed up. He presses his forehead to yours, your noses touching, and your lips brushing against each other each time he thrusts himself inside you.

You’re moaning into each other’s mouths and you feel hot tears in the corners of your eyes at the sheer pleasure coursing through you. You know in that moment, this is unlike anything either of you have ever felt before. He quickens his pace again and now you’re practically screaming his name, unable to control the intensity of what you’re feeling. You feel yourself nearing the edge, and you can feel him coming close too.

You take his face in your hands, and the two of you stare deeply into each other’s eyes as you both reach your breaking point. The world around you blurs, and in that moment, the connection of your bodies and souls is the only thing that’s real.

You tumble over the edge together, both of you moaning and panting into each other’s mouths, holding eye contact the whole time. He thrusts into you a few more times, chasing the waves of ecstasy, before he collapses next to you, his arm still tucked under your back.

The two of you lay there panting for a while, before turning to look at one another. He reaches over and wipes a remaining tear that’s falling from the corner of your eye.

“You’re beautiful.” He utters, breathlessly, looking at you as if he can't believe you're real. You smile and roll onto your side, looking up at him.

“I could say the same to you, Winchester.”

He grins and pulls you closer to him. You lay your head on his chest and realize how exhausted you are. He kisses the top of your head as you close your eyes, and the two of you drift off to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader wakes up in bed with Dean, but doesn't get the reaction she was expecting from him after the night they spent together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed the reader and Dean happy together for a brief moment because now I can't help but ruin it. Sorry!

You wake up slowly, confused at first by the feeling of body heat next to you, pressing against your cheek. You lift your head slightly to see Dean sleeping peacefully. All of the memories of the night before come flooding back to you, and you realize you’re both still completely naked.

You glance at the clock and see that it says 9:00am. The two of you just slept through the night. Like this. Damn, you really did take a lot out of each other.

Suddenly, you remember the hunt you’re supposed to be going on today. That you should already be on the road for. That Sam has probably been up and ready for, for hours.

You’re filled with panic as you gently shake Dean awake, whispering, “Dean! Hey! Wake up!”

He begins to stir, and looks at you with bleary, confused eyes.

“It’s 9 o’clock! We slept all night. You gotta get outta here and we need to get ready to go before Sam figures out-"

There’s a gentle knock on the door.

“Y/N?” Sam calls. “You almost ready to leave?”

You try to mask the panic in your voice, “Uh, yeah, Sam! I’ll be ready in a few.”

There’s a brief pause before he simply says, “Okay, cool.”

You hear his footsteps as he walks away and you breathe a sigh of relief. You look at Dean to find him eyeing you with a strange look, his brows furrowed, intently studying your face, clearly too wrapped up in his head to even be concerned with what time it is or the current situation.

You try to snap him out of it.

“Dean! Hurry, grab your clothes and get in your room while Sam is-"

Again, you hear Sam’s footsteps but this time they are returning to your door. Another knock.

“Hey, uh… guys… I know you’re both in there, okay? Maybe you don’t remember but you weren’t exactly quiet last night. Could you just please hurry it up, because Illinois is like a 14 hour drive.”

Your mouth opens but no words come out. You just look at Dean and you both start laughing.

Dean finally speaks up, “Yuh, sorry Sammy. We’ll be right out.” 

You hear Sam chuckle and walk away. You look at Dean as the two of you stand and collect your clothes from the floor and notice his smile quickly fading, clearly falling into deep thought yet again. You reach out and touch his shoulder to grab his attention.

“Hey, you okay?”

He only makes eye contact with you for a split second before looking away to gather the last of his clothing.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, “Yeah, fine.” He pulls on his boxers and t-shirt quickly before heading out of the room, without another word.

Okay, that was weird. You try to brush it off as you rush to shower, change, and pack a bag as quickly as possible. In about 20 minutes the three of you are in the Impala, heading off for the hunt. Sam smiles as you’re pulling out of the garage and looks back and forth between the two of you.

“So… good night, huh?”

You laugh, “Hah… yeah… sorry about that, Sam.”

“No worries. It’s about damn time.” He says, playfully elbowing his brother. All he gets in return is a half-smile and a sharp exhale from Dean. He looks at you with confusion, and you just shrug subtly and look out the window.

The rest of the drive is mostly quiet, with conversations only about where to stop for snacks or which exits to take. You arrive to the hotel pretty late, book a room with 2 queen beds, and settle in. Dean offers to run out for a late night dinner since none of you have eaten in hours.

He opens the door but before he closes it behind him he says gruffly, “I’ll take the couch.”

Once he closes the door behind him, Sam looks at you, once again confused, and you just sit on the end of one of the beds with a defeated sigh. He walks over to you and sits down next to you.

“Hey, Y/N, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“That’s the thing, Sam. I don’t have a clue.” You answer in frustration. “I mean, you obviously know what went down last night.”

He chuckles at your choice of words and you slap his shoulder playfully with a strained laugh.

“Seriously, though. I mean – I am the furthest thing from needy. I literally have never needed anyone. And I have had my fair share of meaningless sex. Hell, it’s always been meaningless sex. But Sam… that wasn’t what last night was.”

Sam nods and you continue, “I don’t want a relationship. I’m not expecting everything to change. In fact, I don’t want anything to change. Which is why I don’t understand why he won’t even look at me. He’s the one making things weird. Not me.”

Sam lets out a sigh.

“He has a way of freaking out as soon as things get real. But I’m telling you, Y/N, there’s something different about you. About you and him.”

You close your eyes and sigh.

“I don’t know what this thing is with him and I, Sam. It freaks me out too. But he asked me to trust him, and I did. And now he’s pulling away. And I can only assume it’s because of me. I mean… my life has been complicated. Chaos and crap follow me everywhere I go. And I never wanted to burden anyone with that.”

“But if anyone understands that, it’s Dean and I.” Sam says.

“I know,” You answer. “But… Sam, the things I’ve been through in my life. The things I’ve done. I’m… I’m messed up. What if… what if he saw that, somehow? What if he didn’t like what he saw when I let my walls down all the way? I mean, I honestly wouldn’t even blame him-"

Sam’s heart aches as he realizes self-loathing is just one more thing you have in common with his brother. He puts his hand on yours and looks into your eyes.

“Hey. Don’t say that, okay? You’re incredible. And Dean and I, we know all about being messed up. We’re like, the posterboys.” He smiles and you chuckle.

He goes on, “Dean will figure his shit out, I promise. He knows how lucky he is to have you with us. We both do.” He says with a smile.

“You mean so much to him. To both of us.”

You smile back and lean your head on his shoulder, and he wraps an arm tightly around you.

“Thanks, Sam.” You lift your head and look at him. “You both mean a lot to me, too.”

Dean returns with dinner and the three of you eat in silence, watching television. After dinner, you all head to bed and Dean doesn’t say a word to you.

The next day, the boys head to the police station to get more info on the attacks while you stay back to avoid having to wear your FBI outfit. And to avoid more of the awkward silence with Dean.

You elect instead to do some research on any possible omens in the area, anything that might show a large demonic presence. You discover that there had been cattle deaths and strange weather in the past week, signaling either a lot of demons in one place or at least one very powerful one. Not a good sign.

(Dean’s POV)

At the police station, the boys discover that the attacks had all been pretty brutal, with groups of 4 or 5 random people heading into public places and attacking anyone in sight. The sheriff tells the boys that some witnesses saw black smoke coming out of the victims while they were being attacked, but the officers just wrote that off as delusions from the trauma.

The boys exchange knowing glances, assuming those had been Crowley’s minions fleeing the attack from whatever big bad demon was sending his own lackeys. The sheriff finishes by telling the boys that they really don’t have any idea what the motive for these attacks is, but that the perpetrators just seem to want to “cause as much chaos as possible.”

Back in the Impala, Dean yanks off his tie and tosses it in the backseat.

“Well, this is great.” He says angrily. “What the hell is going on here, Sam? It’s like these demons are doing this just to get somebody’s attention.”

“Yeah… but who’s? Crowley’s?” Sam questions.

Dean scowls, “That limey little douche, always causing trouble for us at the worst possible time.”

As Dean begins the drive back to the motel, Sam can’t help but speak up.

“Hey, dude, what is going on with you and Y/N?”

Dean rolls his eyes. He knew this conversation was coming.

“Nothing, Sam, okay? Don’t worry about it.”

“Really, nothing? Because it seems like you had sex with her and now you’re avoiding her at all costs.”

“Well, it seems like you need mind your own damn business.” Dean snaps back.

Sam sighs.

“Look, Dean, I’m not trying to argue. I don’t know what exactly is going on between you two. But, I do know it’s something special. Around her, you’re more yourself than I’ve seen you in a long time. It’s like the Mark isn’t even there anymore.”

“Except it is there. And I don’t know what it’s going to end up doing to me. Turning me into.”

“Don’t push her away because of that. You know that you want her here. You need her here. And so do I. You practically begged her to come with us and now you’re pushing her away? I just don’t get it.”

“It was different then, Sam! Of course I wanted her to come. Of course I care about her. And, yeah, we’ve always had this connection but now, after the other night, it’s different! Now I-"

He stops himself, clenching his jaw and staring at the road in front of him.

Sam’s eyes widen, already having an idea what Dean was going to say.

“Now you what, Dean?”

Dean ignores him, still staring forward.

“Now you… love her?”

He’s gripping the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white.

“Dean…” Sam swallows. “Don’t run away from this. You have to tell her how you feel. I mean, this is good. This could be something.”

“No, it can’t, Sam. Now drop it.”

“But Dean-"

“I said DROP it, Sam.” He growls through clenched teeth.

Sam sighs yet again.

“Fine. You have your walls up. But so does she, and she’s already broken hers down so much for us. For you. Just, please, remember that.”

Dean doesn’t answer. He can’t. Part of him knows Sam is right. The other part of him knows it doesn’t matter.

He let you all the way in. And it made him feel something that he never had. He thought he already knew what it felt like to really open up, and he had prepared himself for that feeling. But this… this is so much more than that. He thought he was ready, that he could handle his feelings for you, but after the other night… things are different.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but he wasn’t expecting this. It scares him. He’s terrified that now that he’s broken down that last wall, let you all the way in, he has more to lose than he ever has before. And he’s already lost so much. If he stops it now before it starts, really starts, he’ll be doing what’s best for the both of you.

Or at least that’s what he’s telling himself.

The boys arrive back to the motel and catch you up on everything the Sheriff told them, and you catch them up on the omens you discovered in the area. You’re all still pretty lost as to what’s going on, so you agree to head to the bar where the last attack took place later tonight, so you can talk to the employees and locals and see if they know anything the police don’t. Hopefully you’ll even run into one of the witnesses.

Sam offers to head out for food, and before Dean can protest he’s out the door, leaving Dean alone with you for the first time since you slept together. The air is awkward and tense, and he doesn’t know what to say to you. So he says nothing at all. He’s sitting at the edge of Sam’s bed, silently flipping through channels on the TV for a while, when you finally speak up.

“What the hell is this, huh?”

He keeps his eyes focused on the TV. “What the hell is what?”

You stand in front of him, grab the remote from his hand, and he looks up at you.

“You know what. You know me. I don’t play mind games. And I know you. And you’re acting insane. So let’s talk about it. We had sex. And honestly… it was the most amazing thing I have ever felt. And I know you felt that too.”

Dean shakes his head and looks down.

“Y/N, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Jesus, Dean, all I’m asking is that you’re honest with me. Tell me what’s going on with you. I don’t want anything from you except for you to admit that what happened the other night was special-"

He stands up and snaps back, “It was a mistake! That’s what it was.”

He sees the surprise and hurt in your eyes as you take a step back from him, but he doesn’t stop.

“So stop asking me to tell you what’s going on with me, because nothing’s going on. Because it meant nothing, okay? It was great sex, but that’s all it was.”

He sees the pain on your face. He knows he’s hurting you. But he just keeps telling himself it’s for the best.

“Just leave it alone, Y/N.”

You let out a pained chuckle. “I am such an idiot.”

He opens his mouth, but you keep going.

“You begged me. You BEGGED me to come with you. I told you how scared I was to let you in, to care about you, and you made me break my walls down anyway. Walls that I’ve never broken down, for anyone.”

He thinks he almost sees tears welling in your eyes and it makes his breath hitch in his throat.

“You asked me to trust you. You…” You point a finger harshly in his direction before balling your hand into a fist. “You were INSIDE me and begged me to let you in completely. And I did. And you promised me everything was going to be okay.”

Your words cut through him to his core. Part of him wants to reach out and hold you and assure you that everything really is going to be okay. But he can’t bring himself to do it.

He just looks away from you and states flatly, “I shouldn’t have made a promise I couldn’t keep.”

He sees the way his words hit you like a bullet to the chest, but you don’t say anything. In that moment, Sam enters the room and it’s clear that he senses the tension immediately.

“What happened?” He asks, taking in both of your pained expressions.

“Nothing, Sam.” Dean answers. “Forget the food. Let’s go the damn bar and figure this hunt out.”

You look at Sam and nod to reassure him.

“I’m fine, Sam. Go ahead.”

Sam’s eyes linger on your face for a few seconds before he nods back and heads back out the door, deciding based on the rage that’s radiating off of you that it’s probably best to give you some time alone anyway.

Dean follows behind him, but stops in the doorway, turning to look at you.

You look back at him, anguish and anger brimming in your eyes, as you speak softly.

“I won’t be here when you get back.”

His heart seizes at those words, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t protest. He just closes the door. On you, and on everything he feels for you.

(Reader POV)

Of all the emotions coursing through your body right now, anger is the one you’re most familiar with. So you hang onto it.

As soon as the door closes behind them you’re throwing your belongings into your bag as quickly as possible. You’re organizing all of your weapons and your money, preparing to be on your own once again. You don’t know where you’re going. You don’t even have a plan. Just to walk until you can get a car, then drive until you’re as far away as possible.

You’re in the middle of changing, wearing a white tank top and jeans, kneeling over your bag in search of a fresh flannel. You’re lost in your own head, angrily digging into your bag, when a voice suddenly sounds from behind you.

“My, my… someone’s in quite the hurry.”

You freeze. You don’t stand. You don’t turn around. You don’t move a muscle. You don’t think you could if you tried.

The voice goes on.

“I am… SO happy to see you, Y/N.”

You close your eyes, take in a deep breath, and stand up slowly, your whole body shaking.

“There we go, that’s a good girl.” The voice croons.

Slowly, you turn around. Your blood runs cold when you finally look at him. You lick your lips, swallow hard, and whisper.

“Alastair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot twist!!!!
> 
> The poor reader can't catch a break. Things are about to get rough. But, we're also finally about to find out more about her.
> 
> Also, I love Dean so much so I feel bad making him such an asshole but it makes for great angst.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, I really hope you enjoy!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick chapter with Dean and Sam at the bar after leaving you at the hotel.

(Sam's POV)

They’ve been at the bar for a couple of hours now, and haven’t had any luck. The bartender quit after the attack, and none of the witnesses have returned either. Just a bunch of drunk locals gossiping about what they heard happened.

Sam’s been asking Dean for the past hour if they can leave yet, but Dean refuses. He can tell Dean is buzzed, but sees him making his way towards being full-on drunk. He’s been downing shots of whiskey and flirting with a young blonde at the end of the bar.

Sam’s rage bubbles as he looks on from a few stools away, watching Dean buy her drinks and whisper in her ear. He sees her put her hand on Dean’s shoulder, and Dean returns the favor by placing his hand on her thigh. They lean in, whispering and giggling, and Sam snaps. He jumps up from his seat and marches up to his brother.

“Dean.” He demands. “It’s time to go.”

Dean waves him off and he continues smiling at the girl.

“Yeah, yeah, Sammy, in a bit. I need a little more time, I’ve just met the love of my life.”

The girl giggles at Dean’s words but Sam just scoffs.

“I’m heading to the bathroom. When I get out, we’re going.” And he strides away.

When Sam comes out of the bathroom, Dean and the girl are nowhere to be seen. He rushes up to the bartender and asks if he’s seen them, and he just points at the back door of the bar. Sam makes his way quickly out the back, worrying something may have happened to his brother. As he opens the door, he’s met with the sight of Dean merely inches from the blonde. He’s got her pressed against the wall as they begin to lean towards each other.

Sam groans in disgust as he grabs his brother’s jacket and yanks him backwards away from the girl. The girl shrieks and run back into the bar.

Dean pulls out of Sam’s grasp and shouts, “What the hell is your problem, man?” as he shoves Sam backwards.

“What’s my problem? Y/N is my problem!” Sam screams back. “I don’t know what you said to her, but I know it wasn’t good. We need to get back to her. What if she decides to leave, huh? For all we know she might be gone!”

Dean just stares at his brother. “She is gone, Sam.”

Sam narrows his eyes. “What?”

“She told me. When we were leaving. She told me she wouldn’t be there when we got back.”

Suddenly, Sam’s fist is flying through the air and he punches Dean in the eye. Dean reels back and drops to one knee, grabbing his face.

“She TOLD you?! And you just let her go?!” Sam shouts.

Sam almost hits him a second time, but instead continues yelling.

“How could you, Dean? You’re so god damn selfish, you know that? You are NOT the only one who cares about her. And now I have to lose her too, because you’re too afraid to admit your real feelings for her?!”

“Sam-" Dean tries to cut him off as he stands.

“No, Dean, I don’t wanna hear it. You think pushing her away and hooking up with random girls is just going to change what’s going on between you two? What you feel for her?! It’s not.”

Dean just lowers his head in shame, staring down at his boots.

Sam goes on, “You know she thinks she’s too messed up to be loved?! And now, whatever you said to her, you probably made her actually believe that’s true!”

Dean looks up at Sam suddenly with surprise and heartache, and Sam keeps going.

“You think you’re protecting yourself, or protecting her, but you’re not. And you need to FIX this before it’s too late.”

Dean just sighs and hangs his head again, defeated.

“How can I possibly fix it, Sam? The things I said to her…”

“I don’t know, but you better figure out. Because we’re going.”

The two walk back to the Impala, and as they’re getting in Sam looks at Dean, seething.

“I swear to god, if she’s gone when we get back, I’m gonna kill you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was just a quick chapter as I finalize some details for the next one, which will be a long one! The goal is to have it up later tonight.
> 
> I know Dean's a dick, but I love him. Hopefully you all still do too. We'll give him a chance to redeem himself.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys return to the motel. But what will they find when they get there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:
> 
> I updated the tags on this to address the things that are mentioned in this chapter. PLEASE read them and if any of them will be upsetting or triggering to anyone, don't read. This is a rough chapter and a lot of very heavy topics are addressed so be aware of that, the last thing I want is to upset anyone!
> 
> With that being said, proceed with caution and prepare to finally understand the reader a lot better.

(Dean’s POV)

They drive in silence going back to the motel. He can feel the heat from Sam’s anger radiating off of him. The whole drive, all he can think about are your anguished eyes looking at him as he closed the door on you. He’s going over everything he said to you, all the ways he hurt you while telling himself he was doing the right thing. He realizes how much he hopes you’re still there when they walk through that door. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say, or how he can possibly fix things, but he just needs to see your face.

They finally pull up in front, and Dean sits frozen in his seat, terrified to look you in the eyes, but even more terrified that he might not have the chance.

“Let’s go.” Sam grumbles as he opens his door and steps out. Eventually, Dean brings himself to get out as well and they make their way to the door. Dean slowly opens it, his heart nearly beating out of his chest as he silently prays to see your face on the other side.

And then, he does see you. And his heart drops to his stomach.

You’re tied to a chair in the middle of the room. Your wrists are duct taped to the arms of the chair, your ankles are taped to the legs, and your bare arms and legs are coated with blood, both fresh and dry. Your white shirt is stained red in places, and your chest is covered with cuts. Parts of your long, Y/H/C hair are matted with blood and your head hangs forward, limp. He can see through your hair that your face is also littered with cuts and bruises, and your eyes are closed.

(Multiple POV)

“NO!” Dean bellows out as he rushes forward, Sam right behind him. But before they reach you, they are flung backwards and pinned against the wall, unable to move.  
Dean wants to call out to you, to make sure you’re even still alive, but the weight pressing against his chest, holding him against the wall, is so strong that he can’t say anything. He and Sam grunt and squirm against whatever force is holding them in place, but they quickly realize whatever it is, it’s strong.

Suddenly, two large men enter the room, their eyes black. They silently stand off to the side of the room, their arms crossed, no expressions on their faces. Both Dean and Sam’s eyes are frantically scanning the room and then looking back to you, both silently pleading with you to please wake up, to give them some sign you’re still alive.

Then, they hear him.

They stop struggling, frozen in shock.

“Well, well… Took you boys long enough.” He sneers as he strolls out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on an already blood-stained towel.

Dean’s mouth shakily turns into a snarl as he growls, “Alastair.”

Panic fills his body as he realizes you’ve been trapped here for hours with Alastair. Guilt rips through his chest as he tells himself this is all his fault. If he hadn’t said what he’d said, you would have been out with them, not here alone.

Even worse, if he had never begged you to come with them in the first place, Alastair wouldn’t have gone after you just to get to him.

“Hello, Dean. Long time no see. Since Sam killed me, in fact.” Alastair glances at Sam.

“Well, thought he killed me. But I ended up back in the pit… took some time for a little R&R and now, I’m more powerful than I’ve ever been. And there was only one thing I could think about while I was down there. And I’ve finally come back for it.” He glances down at you as he says this.

“What, revenge? You don’t need her for that. Let her go.” Sam grunts out.

Alastair grins and grabs a handful of your hair, yanking your head back. Your eyes crack open wearily and your chest heaves up and down slowly. You focus your gaze on the boys and they see an almost apologetic look in your eyes.

“We have been having… such a good time.” He hums as he takes a knife in his hand and runs it gently along your jaw, still holding a handful of your hair to keep your head up.

“Haven’t we, Y/N?”

The boys watch as you glare daggers up at Alastair.

“Honestly…” You croak, “I didn’t wanna hurt your feelings, but you’re kind of boring.”

The boys’ eyes both go wide with shock as they realize you can’t even bite your tongue when a demon like Alastair is torturing you.

Alastair slaps you across the face so hard they both think he may have broken your neck with the way it snaps to the side. You huff out in pain, trying to control your breathing and trying to regain your focus as white spots cloud your vision.

Alastair bends down and whispers into your ear, loud enough so the boys can hear.

“Now, my dear, you and I both know that isn’t true.”

“Leave her alone, you son of a bitch.” Dean snarls. “You’ve got me and Sam now, so let her go.”

Alastair chuckles.

“And what makes you think I’m here for the two of you?”

The boys look from Alastair to you in confusion, and he simply looks down at you and rolls his eyes.

“Those Winchesters. So self-absorbed. Don’t the boys know about our time together?” He asks you before eyeing the boys curiously.

When no one responds, he goes on.

“How much of your story do they know, Y/N?” He grins menacingly.

“Enough.” You growl back.

His grin widens, “Oh, this is going to be fun. Strap in, boys, it’s story time.”

He nods at the large demons in the room, and they step forward, grabbing the boys roughly and pushing them to their knees. The boys try to fight back, but are easily overpowered by the force of Alastair’s hold combined with the strength of the demons.

The demons pull the boys’ jackets off, go through their pockets and pull out all of their weapons and lock picks, and chain their wrists and ankles to the radiator behind them, forcing them to remain on their knees. They tug at their restraints, but the chains are heavy and they know it’s useless.

“And don’t anybody try praying to that angel of yours, the whole room is warded. I came prepared to take my time.”

Once the boys are clearly secure in their chains, Alastair takes a deep breath before beginning.

“First, I’d just like to say how incredibly fascinating it is that the three of you have become so close. I mean, Dean, after everything you did to her…”

He watches the guilt flash across Dean’s face before looking down at you, “I just wish you would forgive me that easily.”

You smirk up at him, “Well, maybe if you were as cute as he is, I would have.”

At that, Alastair punches you in the stomach and you jolt forward, doubling over in pain and coughing at the loss of air. Sam glares at Alastair and Dean closes his eyes and turns his head away at the sight of you in pain.

“Anyway. You two obviously know the little princess made herself a deal. But do you know why? Haven’t you ever wondered why it was so hard for her to open up to you boys? What could possibly have damaged her so much?”

“Alastair,” you croak out between coughs, “don’t.”

The anger in the boys’ expressions is mixed with confusion as they see how desperate you are to keep them from hearing your whole story.

“You see,” Alastair hums as he picks up his knife and presses the tip softly to the top of your forearm, “She doesn’t want anyone to know what really happened to her.”

He presses the blade down slightly and you wince.

“She’s ashamed.” He presses a little harder.

“Truly… it’s…” He presses harder. “…not for the faint of heart.”

He presses harder once more and blood trickles slowly down the sides of your arm.

You squeeze your eyes closed and Dean barks, “Enough!”

Alastair smiles, but removes the blade from your arm and places it back down on the table.

“Fine. We’ll skip right to the good parts. Daddy died when she was 10. Mommy married Chris when she was 12. Did she tell you about Chris?” He asks.

When no one responds to him, he picks the blade back up and resumes pressing it down on the same spot on your arm. You squeeze your eyes closed and groan. You haven’t screamed for the bastard yet and you’re determined not to start now.

The boys are tugging at their chains again as Alastair says, “I asked a question. If no one wants to play along and answer me, then I’ll have to just cut my answers out instead.”

“Yes.” Sam says through gritted teeth, “She told us.”

Alastair smiles and removes the blade from your arm.

“Ah, but did she tell you everything about Chris? Did she tell you that he only married Mommy because he met Mommy’s little daughter and couldn’t stop thinking about her? Did she tell you he would sneak into her bedroom every night, and that instead of doing something about it, Mommy just drank herself to death, leaving little Y/N all alone with him? Did she tell you he pulled her out of school, kept her prisoner in her own home, so she couldn’t tell anyone about all the awful things he did to her?”

You see the way the boys are starting to look at you, and you’re so desperate for him to stop telling them everything you’ve been hiding since you met them that you interrupt him.

“Ugh, Alastair, you really do love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?”

Without a word, he picks the knife up and plunges it into the meat of your lower thigh, carefully avoiding any major arteries. You gasp in overwhelming pain, and the boys cry out in surprise, thrashing against their bonds, concern washing over their faces.

Alastair picks up the roll of duct tape, rips a piece off, and places it over your mouth as you glare at him through pained grunts.

He leans in close to you.

“Don’t interrupt. We’re just getting to the best part.”

You growl out your breaths through your nose, trying to get a handle on the pain coursing through your leg, and he continues his story, leaving the knife sticking out of you.

“He would torture her. Day in and day out. Anything you can imagine. He did it. Poor little Y/N thought her life couldn’t possibly get any worse. And then it did. You see, step-daddy Chris was an alcoholic drug addict. And a bum. And he needed some way to fuel that lifestyle. And then one night, he looked down at the absolute treasure lying beneath him…” He looks at your body up and down and you look away from him, trying to tune out everything he’s saying, “…and he got an idea.”

The boys look on in hatred, but in silence.

Alastair continues, “I mean, I don’t know about you boys, but I would definitely pay for a few hours alone with this one at 14 years old.” He reaches a hand out and runs his knuckles gently along your cheek, and you pull away from him in disgust.

You look at the boys, anger and shame exuding from your eyes, and you can tell by the way they look back at you that they realize what Alastair’s saying.

“And he had lots of friends, didn’t he, Y/N?” You just stare forward, breathing heavily through your nose, eyes focusing on a single place on the floor, desperately trying to maintain composure and tune it all out.

“And they came in droves. Some paid for a few hours, some for the whole night, some for even days at a time.” He leans down right next to your face. “Isn’t that right?”

Your jaw quivers slightly but you refuse to look at him.

“And then,” He goes on, “The one time she tried to escape, he caught her just in time and decided to start shooting her up with drugs, too. To make sure she behaved.”

Dean literally growls out in anger. His eyes shoot daggers at Alastair, “Shut the fuck up.”

Alastair’s eyes narrow at Dean as he reaches down and slowly turns the knife still imbedded in your thigh. You growl out harshly through the tape covering your mouth, so close to screaming.

The boys’ once again pull at their chains as Alastair, still staring at Dean, sneers “If I am interrupted one more time, it’ll go into the other leg next.”

Dean swallows hard but keeps his mouth closed, and Alastair grins.

“Very good. Now, this all went on for almost three years. Imagine that - poor, sweet 17-year-old Y/N – drugged up, tied up, and at the mercy of her horrible stepfather and all of his friends 24/7.”

You feel the boys’ eyes on you, you know they’re looking at you with all the pity you've been trying to avoid, and you can’t bear to see it. You keep your eyes trained on the same spot on the floor, resigning yourself to the knowledge that Alastair isn’t going to stop. That they are hearing everything and they’ll never look at you the same again.

“She started wishing she was dead. Praying to Heaven and Hell and any monsters in between to end it all. And someone heard her. Some… greater power wanted her to get a deal. So, Crowley was sent. I have always been so jealous of him, getting to see her like that. I believe there were five of them there with her when he got there…” He leans down, inches from you, “Am I remembering correctly?”

Your breath hitches in your throat and your jaw clenches. You furrow your brows slightly but don’t break your stare at the floor, refusing to look at Alastair or the boys.

Alastair takes your silence as an answer and beams, “Well, I guess I must be. How marvelous.” He grins down at you for a few more seconds before turning his attention back to the boys.

“Crowley was only supposed to give her one year. But he felt bad for her. He liked her. I mean, the two of you know how captivating she can be. So he gave her three. And in exchange, he got her out of there. He got the drugs out of her system. And he gave her revenge.” He looks back down at you. “Isn’t that right?”

You inhale sharply, your jaw quivering but somehow still holding your composure by a thread. He looks back to the boys.

“He got them off of her. And then, he held them down while she got her revenge on all of them. One at a time. She ripped into them. Picked up a knife and slashed them to pieces. They begged her to stop, begged her for mercy, but she just stabbed them over and over until there was no blood left inside them. And you know what? She enjoyed it.”

You feel the boys’ eyes on you, and you squeeze your own eyes shut. Alastair simply grins as he continues.

“Chris was the last. And the way she tortured him… it was like she had been born for it. At 17 years old she had already brutally murdered five people. Truly… impressive.”

You swallow hard, your eyes still closed, but remain stoic as he goes on.

“And then she grabbed her stuff, all the cash she earned for Step Daddy over the years that he had hidden in his sock drawer, and left. And Crowley cleaned up her mess and made sure no one would ever go looking for her. And that was that.”

You finally open your eyes and slowly bring yourself to look at Sam and Dean, guilt and shame all over your face. They look back at you, looking traumatized just from hearing the trauma that you went through, still clearly trying to comprehend everything Alastair just told them.

“And after that, she used all that rage and all that pain to become one of the greatest hunters there ever was. And then her time came and, well… we know what happened next, don’t we, Dean-o?”

Dean doesn’t look at Alastair, just keeps his eyes on yours, saying a million apologies all at once.

“Hey Sam,” Alastair croons, “do you have any idea what your big brother did to Y/N down there?”

Sam stares daggers at Alastair, but doesn’t say anything.

“He gutted her, Sammy. Over and over again. We knew from the second she landed down there that she was a tenacious little one, so I sent her right to my best student. And he dug into her so hard and so fast, I had never been more proud. Over and over again, every day for his last few years he ripped her apart.”

Dean looks down and then closes his eyes, now joining you in trying to tune out horrific memories.

“But she just wouldn’t break. And then he disappeared. And I knew if the great Dean Winchester couldn’t break her, none of my other students could either. So the responsibility fell on my shoulders.”

The boys look between you and Alastair in realization. Dean’s heart is pounding. He knows better than anyone what Alastair is capable of, and his stomach turns imagining what he might have done to you.

“And we became so close in that time, didn’t we Y/N?”

You look up at him with most smug face you can possibly make, raise your eyebrows, and shrug.

Dean can’t believe you. You really can’t help yourself. Even when your life is literally on the line, you can’t help but be a smug asshole. Just like him. He’s full of pride and fear, watching you recklessly insult Hell’s greatest torturer without even saying a word.

All three of you watch as Alastair grips the handle of the knife in your leg. You try to grunt out in protest, but he yanks it out roughly and your grunt becomes a breathless growl as the pain knocks all the air from your lungs. The boys tug hard against their chains, pulling so hard that their wrists bleed, both hating the helpless feeling of watching everything that’s being done to you.

Alastair rips the duct tape from your mouth, and you gasp out, trying to get your breathing under control and to fighting the urge to scream. Your chest is heaving as you collect yourself, and Alastair once again grabs a handful of your hair and forces you to look up at him.

“Tell them, Y/N. Tell them how much time we had together down there.”

You remain silent and his other hand reaches around your throat, instantly squeezing hard and cutting off any airflow.

“Tell them." He repeats. "Before you no longer have the oxygen left to do so.”

You begin gasping for air, but still don’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. White spots begin to cloud your vision and just as you feel yourself fading from consciousness, Alastair releases your throat with an impatient snarl.

“Fine…” He picks up the knife and walks over to Sam, grabbing a handful of his hair and lowering the knife towards his cheek, “if you won’t do as I ask then I’ll just take my frustrations out on Sammy’s face.”

Your concern for Sam instantly outweighs your stubbornness, and you catch your breath enough to huff out, “Th…th…”

Alastair grins and backs away from Sam as you try to get your words out.

“Thirty-" You gasp.

“Jesus, Alastair, enough.” Dean cuts you off in a desperate growl. “I know what thirty years with you feels like, okay? You don’t have to make her relive that along with everything else.”

Alastair’s head snaps in Dean’s direction.

“Let the girl finish, Dean.” Dean glowers but keeps his mouth closed.

Alastair turns back to you.

“Go ahead. Say it.”

You look at him, and then at Sam and Dean. You don’t want to say it, but you don’t want to risk him going after Sam again.

You still haven’t fully caught your breath, but you manage to wheeze out, “Thirty… months. Up here.”

The boys both furrow their eyebrows, unable to immediately register what you said. In an instant, you watch realization sweep across their faces, followed by utter disbelief.

Alastair’s eyes light up and his grin stretches from ear to ear.

He leans down next to you, “Thaaaaat’s riiiiiight.” He sings out, “Thirty months up here. Three HUNDRED years in Hell.”

He stands up again and turns to the boys. “Three hundred beautiful, bloody years.”

Sam and Dean look on in complete disbelief. They each spent their own time in Hell, and suffered more than they had in their entire lives. And your time in Hell was more than theirs combined.

“Now for the million dollar question,” Alastair asks the boys, “how long do you think it took our girl to break for me?”

They both look at you, wondering what you must’ve had to do in order to survive for that long. They know what Dean had to do. Dean knows how hard it is. How inevitable it is, saying yes to Alastair and picking up the blade. He doesn’t blame you. No matter what, he’s already decided, after everything you’ve been through, he doesn’t blame you for anything you did down there.

“Why don’t you tell them, Y/N, how long did it take for me to break you?” He looks down at you with a knowing smirk.

You just look at the boys, and you can see them studying your face, each of them clearly wondering to themselves how long it took.

“Y/N, my dear, I asked you to do something. Tell them. I want to hear you say it.”

You look up at him defiantly, still refusing to give him the satisfaction of doing anything he asks.

He growls once again, picking up his knife, yanking your head back by your hair, and pressing the blade to your throat hard enough to instantly draw blood.

The boys thrash and grunt, but you don’t even wince. Even when he presses down harder. You just maintain defiant eye contact with him. He lets out a frustrated chuckle as he looks at the boys.

“This obstinate behavior alone should give you your answer, boys.”

Dean looks confused, but realization sweeps across Sam’s features. He lets out a breathless chuckle and looks at you in amazement.

“She didn’t break.”

Your eyes dart from Alastair to Sam, knife still pressed against your throat. Dean goes slack-jawed at Sam’s words and he looks to you for confirmation, to see if Sam could possibly be correct. The boys can both tell by the look in your eyes that he is.

Alastair smiles once again and releases you.

“Ding ding ding, Sammy. Three hundred years we spent together. I tried everything and she just…” He clenches his jaw, “wouldn’t break. I was so determined, always coming up with new ideas. But before I got my chance to finally break her, she disappeared, too.”

“You didn’t come topside for Sam and I at all.” Dean finally speaks up, his voice gravelly and hushed.

Alastair points at Dean.

“Now he’s catching on.” He grins, “Imagine my pleasant surprise when I realize you’re all together. Of course, I wanted revenge on the two of you, but you really weren’t my priority. This is really... a two birds with one stone kind of deal.”

He looks at you longingly, “She is the one that got away. She is the real reason I’m here.”

You glower at him. “Yeah, well, here I am. How about we ditch these two and you and I can have some real fun?”

He smiles. “So eager. Don’t worry, you and I will have plenty of time. I just need the boys to see who you really belong to. Especially with whatever is going on between you and Dean.”

Your heart drops to your stomach and you look at him in shock, as do the boys.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised. I can smell it in the air between the two of you. And you know what…” He lowers his voice to a whisper, “I could see it even in Hell.”

You and Dean exchange quick glances, and then look back to Alastair as he continues talking.

“From the very first day you landed on that rack in front of him. The way the two of you looked at each other. I mean, even when he was standing in front of you, shoving a blade into your chest, the two of you looked at each other like you were making love.”

Your heart is racing but you don’t say anything, you simply look at Dean to find him already staring at you.

“Tell me,” Alastair croons, “have you?” He eyes you up and down curiously then looks over to Dean.

You and Dean look from each other to Alastair, waiting for him to clarify.

Still eyeing Dean, he asks, “Have you fucked her yet, Dean?”

Your mouth goes dry and you watch the color fade from Dean’s face, giving Alastair his answer.

“I knew it.” He sneers, taking a step towards Dean. “How many times?”

Dean glares at him, but he doesn’t answer. Alastair continues to walk towards him until he’s standing directly in front of him, looking down at him.

“How many times?” He repeats. Dean clenches his jaw and continues staring, refusing to answer.

Suddenly, Alastair reels back and brings his fist down hard against Dean’s cheek. Dean’s head flies to the side and he nearly falls over, struggling to keep his balance on his knees. Alastair wastes no time and hits him again, even harder, knocking him onto his side.

Sam is desperately trying to get in the way or deflect the blows, but he can’t reach and he just continues struggling against his chains. With Dean on his side, Alastair begins kicking him in the stomach, over and over again. With his hands and ankles still chained behind him, Dean has no way to protect himself against the blows.

You watch helplessly, panic rising in your chest as Dean begins spitting out blood after each blow. 

Without even thinking you desperately blurt out, “Once!”

Alastair freezes and turns toward you, while Dean coughs out more blood, trying to catch his breathe.

Alastair looks at you curiously.

“It was only once.” You breathe out, just trying to keep his focus on you.

He begins walking towards you and relief floods your body, knowing he’s at least stepped away from Dean for now. You watch as Dean manages to get himself back onto his knees, shoulders slouched and chest heaving, wincing at each inhale of breath.

Alastair stops in front of you.

“Only one time?” He asks incredulously.

You know you need to downplay it, and the anticipation on the boys’ faces tells you they know that’s what you’re doing, too. The less he thinks Dean means to you, the less he will focus his energy on him. And no matter how angry you are at him right now, you still want to protect him.

Alastair grabs your hair and forces you to look up at him.

“Don’t forget, three hundred years together has made it so that I know when you’re lying.”

You look at him earnestly and swallow hard.

“It was only once, Alastair. I swear.” You can tell he believes you, but that hasn't distracted him from going after Dean.

He starts to turn back to Dean again and you blurt after him, “But!“

He stops, looking back to you. You look at Dean, your tired Y/E/C eyes connecting with his bloodshot green ones.

“It was a mistake.” You breathe.

You see the pain shoot across Dean’s features. He knows what you’re doing. You’re trying to save him by using the same words he used to hurt you. And it kills him.

Alastair raises his eyebrows and smirks. “Is that so?”

Your eyes are still staring into Dean’s as you utter, “It was great sex, but that’s all it was.”

Finally, you tear your eyes away from Dean and look up at Alastair.

“It meant nothing.”

Dean closes his eyes as your words – his words – punch him in the gut.

Alastair grins and places his hand on your cheek. You wince and try to pull away, but you can only go so far.

The boys pull at their chains as Alastair places his hand on the side of your face and runs his thumb agonizingly slowly along your cheekbone.

“I guess he just couldn’t make you feel as good as I always could, huh?”

You squeeze your eyes shut in disgust. His words hit Sam and Dean like a ton of bricks. You open your eyes to look at them, and you can see they both look like they’re about to be sick. You can tell the more they find out the details of what you have been through, the harder it’s becoming for them to look you in the eyes.

Alastair’s continues to caress your face, and you once again struggle to get out of his grasp as you sneer up at him with yet another cocky smirk.

“Your delusional narcissism is truly astounding.”

He chuckles briefly. And then without warning, he slaps you across the face. And before you can even recover, he punches you in the stomach. While you’re doubled over in pain, he picks up his knife and slices the tape binding your wrists and ankles. He grabs you by the hair and throws you to the floor.

You begin to push yourself up, but he kicks you hard in the stomach and you fall back down to the floor. He kicks you again and you grunt out in pain as all the air leaves your lungs. He kicks once more and you feel your ribs crack. You spit out a mouthful of blood and he grabs you by the hair again, pulling you up onto your knees.

You feel yourself falling into a daze, and try to focus your eyes on the boys, to show them you’re alright. You see them desperately yanking at the chains still holding them securely to the wall. Alastair grabs your chin and turns your attention to him.

He smiles at you and jeers, “How I have MISSED throwing you around like this.”

You smile back and then spit a mouthful of blood onto his shirt. With that, he punches you again and you fall back to the ground. He lands one more solid blow to your stomach and you groan out, grasping at the floor in pain.

You lay there, coughing, desperately trying to catch your breath and you hear the boys begging Alastair to stop. He does stop, and he leans forward, placing his hands on his knees as he speaks to you.

“Maybe we should show the boys how to really take care of you. In the way that you’re used to. What do you say?” With that, he stands back up, smiles, and nods to the demons in the corner.

They smile back for the first time since they’ve entered the room. As if this is what they had been waiting for the whole time. They begin walking towards you and what Alastair said begins to register in your clouded brain.

You try to get up, to move yourself away from them, but one of them grabs you firmly by the throat and picks you up, dragging you backwards and then throwing you onto the bed.

This triggers the realization in Sam and Dean and they begin thrashing harder than they have thus far.

“NO, Alastair, no, no, no.” Dean cries out, his voice a mix of anger and pure desperation. 

Alastair simply stands in the middle of the room and smiles as he watches his demons throw you onto the bed. One of them simply stands next to you, grinning down and waiting for his turn as the other one crawls on top of you. You’re frantically trying to fight him off, your fists flying at him and your body squirming beneath him, but he overpowers you so easily in your current state that it’s almost laughable.

“No, no, NO!” you shout as he grabs your wrists in his large hands and pins them on either side of your head. He leans his head forward, his demonic smile right next to your ear, and inhales deeply. You’re still desperately struggling underneath him when you look over and see Sam and Dean watching, pure panic on their faces. You realize in that moment you’d do anything to stop this from happening in front of them.

“No… Alastair…” You look to him, your eyes suddenly pleading with his, showing the first ounce of weakness since he’s taken you prisoner, and you croak out, “please.”

Alastair’s smile fades to a look of surprise.

He steps forward, lifting his hand in the air, whispering, “Wait.”

The demon on top of you instantly stops what he’s doing and looks to Alastair, waiting on his next command.

Alastair looks down at you and grins, “Say it again.”

You look at the boys. The panic on their faces hasn’t subsided completely, but it’s now accompanied by a look of sadness, both of them knowing how much it takes for you to show any kind of weakness or defeat.

You swallow hard and clench your jaw, then look back to Alastair.

Through clenched teeth you mutter, “Please, Alastair. Just… not here.”

You’d be a fool to think that anything you could say or do would stop this from happening, and you know that. You're just praying that you could find a way to stop it from happening here. In front of the boys.

Alastair takes a few steps forward and leans down, his face merely inches from yours.

“If you say it again, then I might just consider giving in to you.”

You look at the boys once more, your jaw quivering.

You close your eyes, inhale deeply, then look into Alastair’s eyes and whisper.

“Please.”

He lets out a sinister chuckle and stands.

He nods to the demon still on top of you and says, “That’s enough for now. Put her back in the chair and then we’re going to scope out someplace nice and private.”

The demon gets off of you and drags you off the bed and back into the chair. They duct tape you tightly back down and Alastair grabs your face, forcing you to look at him.

“I appreciate that you want some privacy. Now, I’m going to head out and find someplace for us. When I get back, you’re going to say goodbye to the boys and then you and I can finally pick up where we left off, with no interruptions.” He nods to the demons, and one of them follows him out of the room while the other stays behind.

You’re left alone with the boys and the one remaining demon. Without any warning, you look at the boys and begin speaking quickly.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas-"

The demon growls and runs at you, grabbing you by the throat to stop you from speaking. As soon as you stop, Sam picks up where you left off.

“Omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te-"

The demon runs at Sam, punching him in the gut.

Dean jumps in, “Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare-"

The demon begins to run at Dean but Sam immediately joins in again.

“Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis-"

He’s standing in front of Sam and Dean now, growling out, but frozen in place as the exorcism begins to take hold. The boys go on together, so distracted by the demon in front of them that they don’t see you leaning forward, reaching your hand into your shirt, pulling out your lock pick, and quickly placing it in your mouth.

They just keep chanting, “Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei; contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine...quem inferi tremunt...Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine-"

The demon drops to his knees in front of them.

“Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos.”

Suddenly, the demon is screaming as black smoke billows out of his vessel and through the floor. His vessel falls to the ground, limp, and there are a few seconds of silence between you and the boys.

You look at them with tired eyes and simply whisper, “I’m sorry.”

They both look at you, clearly overwhelmed with wanting to say so much and yet having no idea where to begin.

Dean doesn’t say anything. There’s so much that he wants to say, and yet in this moment, all he can do is look at you.

Sam breathes out, “Y/N…”

“I told you. I’m too messed up. And I’m sorry.” You look between the two of them. “But I’ll get you out of this.”

They look at each other and then back to you.

Sam begins to speak “Wait, what, no-"

You cut him off, “We don’t have much time. He’s gonna sense we did this. He’ll be back any second. I just need you both to know, I’m going to get the two of you out of this.”

You look at Dean. “I promise.”

Before they can respond, the door flies open and Alastair strolls in with the other demon following behind. He looks down at the lifeless vessel on the floor and grins as he walks up to you. He reaches down and squeezes the spot on your thigh where he had previously plunged his knife.

You growl out in pain and he whispers “WHAT did you do? Huh?”

You don’t respond, and he squeezes harder, causing you to screw your eyes shut and throw your head back in pain, grunting through gritted teeth.

“I’m trying to find a nice place for us, Y/N.” He admonishes condescendingly. “And this is how you behave?”

He squeezes your thigh one more time before releasing, and you drop your head down, your chest heaving in painful pants.

He then cuts off pieces of duct tape and places them over yours, Sam’s, and Dean’s mouths to avoid another exorcism.

He turns to the demon next to him and growls out, “Do you think YOU can handle them?”

The demon simply nods and Alastair turns to you.

“In a few moments, he’s going to bring you to me,” He says as he points to the demon, “and that will be the last time you ever see the Winchesters. The only reason I don’t kill them in front of you is that I’m afraid that’ll break you too quickly, and I want to take my time with you and with the boys. Once I’ve got you where I want you to be, I’m going to come back here and I’m going to slaughter them. So say your goodbyes.”

With that, he exits the room once again.

You and the boys stare at each other, wide-eyed, and all three of you spend the next few minutes tugging at your restraints, desperately trying anything to avoid what Alastair has promised is coming next.

Suddenly, the demon’s phone rings.

“Hello? Yes… yes, sir. We’ll be right there.” He hangs up, looks at you, and grins. “He’s ready for you. The fun is finally about to begin.”

He walks to you and leans down on his knees in front of you, pulling out a knife and cutting the duct tape off of you. Once he’s cut through the last of it on your ankles, he looks at you, your faces completely eye level.

With all of the remaining strength you have, you reel back, and bring your head forward, slamming it into the bridge of his nose. He goes flying back, grabbing his face in shock, and dropping to his knees.

You stumble over to your bag, knowing that Alastair already confiscated your weapons, but that he didn’t know about the flask that’s secretly filled with holy water. You grab it and splash it on the demon just as he pulls his hands away from his broken nose.

He screams out and grabs his face again and you rush over to the boys. You rip the duct tape from your mouth as you kneel down in front of Dean. You pull the duct tape from his mouth as well.

His bright green eyes study your face up and down, and you grab either side of his face, urgently pressing your lips to his. You open your mouth and kiss him hard and passionately. He melts into you, instantly kissing you back.

You savor the kiss for as long as you can, before you hear the demon getting to his feet behind you. With one last rushed movement, you pass the lock pick you’ve been hiding from your mouth to Dean’s.

Then, the demon is behind you and yanks you backwards. He throws you to the ground and stomps on your stomach, and you gasp out in pain. Before you can curl into a ball, he pulls you to your feet by your hair.

“You’re going to pay for that.” He growls out as he drags you toward the door. “Say goodbye.”

Your eyes connect with Sam’s, offering him a silent goodbye and you can see the anguish in his face as he helplessly watches you being dragged from the room.

Then, you look at Dean, and your eyes bore into each other’s one last time before you’re pulled out of the room and the door is slammed closed behind you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am HORRIBLE to the reader but we all knew she had to have gone through a lot in order to become the badass that she is. I did warn everyone in the beginning that this was going to get dark and angsty. But we wouldn't all love this show so much if we didn't like that, right?
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH for reading and sticking with me thus far, it means a lot!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys face the aftermath of everything that just went on in the motel room.

The second you and the demon are out of the room, the boys look at each other and Sam watches as Dean spits something small and metal out of his mouth and onto the floor just between his knees. Sam looks down in confusion and then sudden realization when he sees what it is.

He instantly figures out what the purpose was of your last ditch effort to kiss Dean. It was to save them. To get them out.

Dean leans back, stretching his arms as far as they will go under himself and between his knees, fingers grasping at the small metal bar.

After a few seconds, he’s finally able to pull it into his fingers and he gets to work on picking the lock on his wrists. Soon, the locks on his wrist click and fall off, and he turns his body to make quick work of the ones on his ankles.

Once those are off, he moves to Sam’s locks and gets all of those off even more quickly. They jump to their feet and run outside of the room, desperately hoping that there may have been some trace of you or where you were taken.

But, there’s nothing. Only the Impala in the parking lot, and no one else in sight.

Dean frantically runs back into the room, throwing stuff around and searching through the mess for any possible clue to your whereabouts. Anger and panic take over as he finds nothing and soon he’s just throwing things for the sake of throwing them, angry growls tearing from his throat as lamps and chairs crash all around him.

He doesn’t even hear Sam screaming his name until Sam grabs his face in his hands and yells from merely inches away, “DEAN!”

Dean’s panicked eyes try to focus on Sam, but he can feel the Mark burning on his arm.

He looks down at it in disgust and shouts, “NOW?! NOW I feel it? That whole time – everything he did to her and this god damn thing gives me NOTHING! No extra strength, no power to help her. Not a god damn THING!” He’s screaming, his voice breaking on his last sentence.

Sam’s looking into Dean’s eyes, still holding his face, speaking to him in a rushed whisper.

“Hey, hey. That doesn’t matter now, okay? We need to find her. Dean, we need to find her.”

Finally focusing on his brother’s face for the first time, Dean sees the pure panic in Sam’s eyes. He knows Sam is trying to calm him down, but he can see that Sam isn’t calm at all.

As they stare at each other, tears start welling in their eyes. Both of them acknowledging the pain and fear they feel for you. The realization of everything that’s just gone on crashing down on them at once. 

Dean’s voice breaks again as he croaks out, “I’m so fucking sorry, Sammy.”

Sam chokes back his tears and clears his throat.

“Don’t, Dean. We don’t have time. We need to get out of here before he gets back. And we need to figure out how to find her.”

He wants to blame his brother, and he is still mad at him. But it doesn’t matter anymore, and he knows that. They need to pull their shit together and find you. Before it’s too late.

For a few seconds, they consider waiting there for Alastair to come back. They know he’s too strong and right now, they have no weapons or plan to fight him, but they would rather be suffering with you then let you suffer alone.

However, they think about what you would say. That you would kick their asses if they allowed themselves to be captured again, after you just got them out. That they need to regroup and figure out a plan if they hope to have a chance at all of killing Alastair and saving you.

They urgently load up the car and set out on the road. It’s a tough decision, but they make up their minds to head back to the bunker. Realistically, they know Alastair could’ve taken you anywhere and they have absolutely no leads. They know their best bet is heading back – to track you, to track Alastair, to pray to Cass, to do anything they can to compose a plan to save you.

They don’t sleep when they get back. It’s just countless cups of coffee and countless hours of research. First, they try to track your phone – but they get nothing and they realize the demons must have smashed it.

Then, they start looking for omens similar to the ones you found, hoping if they find any more, that might tell them where Alastair is. Where you are.

But they don’t find any.

They take turns saying constant prayers to Cass, begging him to halt his search for Metatron to help them find you instead. They get nothing back from him. They look up tracking spells of all kinds, trying anything they find to locate you.

Each one gives them a different answer and none of them have led to you.

After four days of this, they’re tired beyond the point of exhaustion, frustrated, and nearly defeated.

By day five, they’re sitting at the map table, empty coffee mugs and open books strewn all over it, when they hear a voice sound from behind them.

“Well, you’ve really let this place go to shit, haven’t you boys?” Crowley questions as he steps into the room.

“Just dropped by to see how that pesky little job went in Illinois.”

Both boys glare at him, and with a loud growl Dean stands up, his chair flying backwards, and he rushes Crowley, using his forearm to pin him against the wall.

“YOU did this.” He seethes.

Crowley’s eyes go wide and he throws his hands up in surrender and surprise.

“Did what?!” He shrieks.

Sam stands up and stalks over to him, glaring down.

“Did you know he was there?”

Crowley looks back and forth between the boys frantically.

“Who?! What are you two TALKING about?”

“ALASTAIR!” Dean snarls, pressing harder into Crowley’s chest. “The son of a bitch took her. It was all a trap. For her.”

It’s then that Crowley looks around the room, realizing you’re not there. Sam leans down closer and growls.

“Did. You. Know?”

Crowley furrows his brows in confusion, and then anger.

“Of COURSE I didn’t know! I would never do that! Not… not to her.” Genuine concern for you sweeps across his face, and the boys can see it.

“The bastard must’ve used to me and my men to lure you out there. He must have known if they made a big enough mess, that I’d tell you about it and you’d show up. And Y/N with you.”

The boys look at each other and Dean removes his arm from Crowley’s chest, taking a step back.

Crowley lets out a deep sigh and straightens his tie before asking, “What happened to her?”

The boys and Crowley sit around the table and they tell him everything that happened. They tell him that they know about your deal, why you made it, and what he did for you.

They’re shocked when they see real sadness in his eyes as they explain everything that happened to you.

Everything that’s still happening to you.

“Crowley,” Sam sighs, “Is it all true?”

Crowley swallows hard and looks down at the table. “Yes.”

Both boys close their eyes and sigh and he continues.

“The things I saw… the things that girl has been through…” He clears his throat. “Well. It’s enough to make even the King of Hell sick.”

Dean looks across the table at him, eyes pleading. “Can you help?”

Crowley stands, and looks across the table at the boys earnestly.

“I’ll do everything I can.”

With that, he disappears.

Two more weeks go by, and the boys are no closer to finding you than they were on the very first day. 

They’re running out of ideas, patience, and hope.

They’re in the kitchen, pouring themselves each a fresh cup of coffee, when Castiel appears behind them.

“Hello.”

They each whirl around in shock.

“Hello?! That’s all you got for us, Cass?” Dean demands angrily.

Cass looks back in confusion.

“Is that not the term you’d like me to use when I greet you?”

Dean rolls his eyes and Sam steps forward, pointing aggressively at Castiel.

“We’ve been praying to you for WEEKS, Cass. Where have you been?"

“I told you that you may not be able to reach me for a few days. I’ve been deep in the hunt for Metatron. I thought you both understood how important it is for us to find him-"

“She’s GONE, Cass!” Dean bellows, slamming his coffee mug down onto the table. “Y/N’s gone. And we can’t find her.”

Cass furrows his brows, “What do you mean?”

Cass’ face goes solemn as the boys explain everything. It pains them to go over all of the details again, but they know any little thing could help Cass find you, and they just can’t risk leaving anything out.

Cass stares at the ground and mutters, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“You’re here now.” Sam answers.

“Find her. Please.” Dean begs, his tired eyes pleading with Cass.

Cass simply nods and disappears. They boys are left helpless once again, just hoping that Cass or Crowley will return with news.

Or even a hint. Something, anything, that might lead them to you.

Dean doesn’t sleep. Granted, he hardly does anything but sit at that table and search for ways to find you. But even the brief few hours here and there that he does lay in his bed, he doesn’t sleep.

Every time he closes his eyes, he sees you.

He sees you as a child, suffering at the hands of people who were supposed to take care of you. He sees you in Hell, suffering by his own hand. And then for another 300 years. He sees you in that motel room, suffering while trying to protect them. He sees you alone with Alastair now, suffering while he fails to find you.

And, he sees you underneath him, your bodies moving together, your eyes connecting with his as his name rolls off your lips in ecstasy. He sees you laughing at his cheesy jokes and singing along with him to your favorite songs.

For once, not suffering.

You, who had spent your entire life suffering, finally finding some joy.

With him.

And he threw it away. He ruined it, because of his own fear. And that’s the last thing he sees before he can’t do it anymore, before he forces himself out of bed – your eyes, when he told you that what you shared meant nothing.

When he made the greatest mistake of his life.

And now, he isn't sure if he'll ever even get the chance to make it right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for continuing to read and for all the feedback! It means a lot.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out what's been happening to the reader while Alastair holds her captive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me after reading this chapter. I'm terrible to the reader. I just can't help myself.
> 
> Again, please read the tags. There is torture in this chapter. Of all kinds. I don't want to upset anybody!

You’re not sure how long it’s been, but you’re guessing at least a month.

You know the boys are still looking, despite Alastair constantly telling you that they’re not and that they no longer care.

He was absolutely infuriated when he realized the boys had escaped. He knew you had something to do with it, but you refused to tell him how.

So now he’s decided to use it against you, to tell you all the reasons they probably don’t even want to find you.

You’re trying desperately to remind yourself that that isn’t true. Of course they want to find you, of course they’re looking, of course they care.

But you also remember Dean telling you that what you had meant nothing.

You remember Sam and Dean’s faces as Alastair laid bare every horrible thing that has happened in your life.

And you’ve begun to tell yourself that now, more than ever, the Winchesters realize how messed up and damaged you are and that they’re better off without you.

And as strong as you may be, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t afraid of how much of you will be left when they do find you.

If they do find you.

Hell was different from this. You knew it wasn’t real. The pain may have been real, but your life wasn’t. It was already over. And you had nothing left to lose.

But this time, you’re alive.

And for the first time in your life, you actually have something to lose. Something that made life worth living. You had just started getting used to that feeling, and now you feel that fading with each passing torture and each passing day. And that makes this so much worse than Hell.

Alastair’s keeping you in the basement of a house somewhere. You don’t know where, but you can’t help but think about the poor family he undoubtedly slaughtered in order to take over their home.

He brought one of your bags with them when they took you from the hotel, which allows you to have a few changes of clothes. You're surprised he even allows you to have clothes at all, but you assume it's because of the sick satisfaction he gets from the tortures that result in them being shredded or sliced off of you.

You’re typically either hanging from the ceiling with your wrists chained above your head, strapped down to a chair in the middle of the room, or tied down to the bed in the corner.

You didn’t expect Alastair to be so creative with the torture. In Hell, it was easier for him to be – he didn’t have to worry about killing you.

But you thought that up here, with him needing to keep you alive, a lot of his usual methods wouldn’t be options. You were wrong. He is just as creative at keeping you alive as he is at making you suffer.

He whips the flesh from your back, and waits just long enough for it to begin to heal before doing it again. He wedges his knives and needles into the places that are somehow the most painful, but do the least damage. He burns a hot poker and brands you in the most sensitive places – inner thighs, neck, inner arms, bottoms of your feet. And whenever he cuts you just a little too deep, he uses the poker to cauterize the wound – somehow minimizing risk of death while maximizing pain. He pours ice cold water over your head and face, freezing you to the bone and filling your lungs until you feel like they’ll burst out of your chest. It feels like he’s broken each and every last one of your ribs, along with most of your fingers and toes. You’re bruised practically from head to toe, and cuts litter nearly every inch of your skin.

You’d still take any of that over the days he ties you down to that bed. And he knows that. He’s doing exactly what was done to you as a child and allowing any of his demons to come down in the basement and torture you in any way they want for hours on end.

Other times, he comes down alone. You don’t know which is worse.

You never stop fighting. But no matter how much you fight, it doesn’t stop. You get weaker each day, and you don’t know how long it will take for your body to completely give up, even if your mind never does.

Today, you’re hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room. Your wrists are chained above your head, and your toes just barely brush against the ground. Blood trickles down your forearms slowly, oozing out of the wounds on your wrists that have healed and reopened so many times.

You hear Alastair walk down the stairs and you lift your head - which takes a ridiculous amount of energy – to look at him. He grins at you.

“You know, despite your current state, you are still so beautiful. In fact, I think you look more beautiful like this – bloody and broken – than you ever have.”

“I… am not… broken.” You wheeze.

He laughs, “Your obstinacy is what keeps me excited, Y/N.”

He walks up to his table of weapons and devices.

“Now, what shall it be today?” His hand hovers over multiple possibilities as he considers them.

“Any chance… you got some Band-Aids… over there?” You chuckle breathlessly. He ignores you.

“Ah!” His eyes light up, “A classic.”

He picks up his favorite homemade whip, and you feel sick.

It’s composed of multiple thick, long, leather straps that would be enough on their own to destroy your flesh. However, he added sharp metal hooks in multiple places on each strap, which sink into your skin each time he hits you and then tear back out each time he pulls away.

“That one again? You’re… starting to get... predictable.” You joke, trying to mask the fear in your voice.

He licks his lips and looks you up and down as he circles you slowly.

“What will it take to get you to stop talking back, hm?” He questions, amused.

“Well,” You cough. “A couple shots of whiskey and burger would definitely keep me busy for a while.”

“Always joking.” He grins. “Such a funny girl.”

“I’ll be here all week.” You wink at him weakly and cough again.

“Good thing I have my own ways to stop you from talking back.” He continues to eye you up and down as he walks behind you, and you swallow hard knowing what’s coming next.

He waits for a few agonizing seconds, then suddenly lifts the whip and strikes you in the center of your back. He pulls back, shredding your shirt along with your flesh. 

You scream.

In the beginning, you had tried to fight screaming. You don’t fight it anymore. Your throat is raw from it. He hits you again and you let out a broken whine, the intensity of the pain knocking all the oxygen from your body.

He hits you again and you scream out, choking on the air you’re trying to force into your lungs. Every noise you make, every scream and strangled cry, thrills him more.

He hits you a few more times, even harder than before, until your screaming stops, and you’re a panting mess, the pain so strong that you no longer even have the energy to yell.

Once you’ve reached that point, he’s satisfied. He reaches up, releases you from your chains, and catches your body before it falls to the ground, knowing there’s no chance your legs could even hold you up. He drags you over to the bed, and when you realize through the haze of pain what he’s doing, you try to fight back.

But you can hardly move.

You can only groan and curse, hardly able to feel your limbs, let alone use them to push him away from you.

“I told you, you belong to me.” He sneers.

You close your eyes, trying to focus on the pain you feel all over your body. You’d rather feel that than his hands.

You picture Sam and Dean and your heart aches. Maybe you don’t want them to find you. Maybe deep down, you know it’s already too late. That when they do find you… you might already be broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes.
> 
> SORRY!
> 
> I told you, I can't help myself.
> 
> Promise that next chapter there will be some hope, and you won't have to wait long because I plan on posting it later tonight.
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH for reading.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something finally gives in the search for the reader.

It’s been almost two months.

Wherever Alastair is keeping you, it’s warded against angels. Cass has searched all over and can’t find a trace.

Crowley’s been searching too, but Alastair is even more powerful than him at this point and has been able to keep you out of his sights as well.

Crowley’s resorted to finding any demons that he even thinks might have a link to Alastair, and torturing them for any information. None have given anything up, all more terrified of Alastair than they are of Crowley.

The boys are a mess. They haven’t taken a case. They’ve hardly left the bunker except for the times they’ve resorted to just driving around looking for you as if they’re looking for a lost puppy.

This has never happened before. Even when they’re up against the biggest of walls, they always manage to find another option. A solution.

But they can’t find you.

They feel more and more defeated every day, knowing each one is another day you’ve spent with Alastair. But they don’t give up. Neither one is willing to even consider the fact that it might be too late. 

They can’t.

Despite that, Dean is starting to lose it.

At first, he was so focused, so determined to find you that his rage was subdued. But now, two months later without so much as a lead, his rage is taking over. The Mark is taking over.

Each and every day he feels even more guilty. He absolutely hates himself. He hates himself for everything he did to you in Hell. He hates himself for saying the things he said to you. He hates himself for allowing Alastair to take you away so easily. And he hates himself for not finding you.

The irony of his mistake eats at him constantly. He tried to push you away, thinking the hurt he was causing you then would somehow protect you both from even greater pain in the future.

What a fucking idiot.

Everything he was afraid of after spending that night with you, being with you, has come true. Everyone he loves, everything he cares about is taken away. He is toxic and you, above everything, were the ONE thing he was trying so desperately not to ruin.

All he wanted to do was protect you. To keep you from becoming yet another casualty of Dean Winchester. And he failed again.

And now that he knows what you’ve been through in your life, he understands even more why it was so hard for you to let him in. Especially in that way.

He’s resorted to holding a bottle of whiskey in one hand at all times. He just sits at the table in the library, nursing the bottle, trying to get the images of what he knows is happening to you out of his head.

He’s so exhausted, his eyes bloodshot, his hair a mess, and he doesn’t care about any of it. For all he cares, he could drink himself to death right here, right now.

Sam walks into the library and takes in his brother’s current state. He picks the bottle of whiskey up from the table.

“Dean, this isn’t going to help us find her.”

Dean grabs the bottle out of Sam’s hand and takes another sip.

“Oh yeah, Sam? Seems to me like nothin’ is going to help us find her.”

Sam scoffs. “Really? You’re just gonna give up, just like that?”

Dean pounds the table and stands up, whiskey bottle in hand, his face inches from his brother.

“I am NOT giving up. I would do ANYTHING to find that girl. I would give ANYTHING for her!” He shouts, his voice breaking slightly. He takes a breath and takes a step back.

“This is exactly what I was scared of, Sam.” He says softly, looking down. “Every single god damn time we get close to someone. Every god damn time. We lose them. I let myself get close to her. And now she’s gone. And we can’t find her.”

Sam sighs. “Dean, Alastair was coming after her, regardless of us. He told us that himself. For once, this didn’t happen because she got close to us. Y/N isn’t like everyone else, not by a long shot. Her life is just as messy as ours.”

“But we helped her walk right into the trap, Sam!” Dean shouts again, his rage bubbling once more. “We let her walk into a trap and we did NOTHING to stop it!”

“Dean, we didn’t know!”

“Well we SHOULD’VE FUCKING KNOWN!” Dean throws the bottle across the room and it smashes against the wall.

The Mark glows on his arm and he grips the edge of the table to steady himself. Sam just watches him, wide-eyed, unsure what he’ll do next.

Dean tries to control his breathing.

“We… we should’ve known. And I shouldn’t have left her alone in that room. I shouldn’t have told her she meant nothing to me when I already knew in that moment that she-"  
He stops himself as his voice cracks. He closes his eyes, tears brimming, and then opens them to look at his brother.

“That she means everything to me.” He pauses. “She means everything to me, Sammy.”

Sam looks at Dean with sadness in his eyes, understanding his brother’s pain. As they look at each other, they don’t notice Crowley appear on the other side of the room.

“I have an idea.” Crowley says, matter-of-factly.

The boys both snap their heads in Crowley’s direction in surprise. As soon as what he says registers in their brains, they begin to walk toward him.

“What idea?” Dean demands.

“I’ve been trying to torture the demons that I know have had any affiliation whatsoever with Alastair since he’s been back. But,” He sighs, “They won’t speak to me. They give nothing up. For some absolutely astonishing reason, they don’t find me scary.” The annoyance is all over his face.

“Yeah, Crowley, we know. How does that help us if they won’t speak to you?” Sam impatiently questions.

Crowley glares at him but goes on, “They don’t find ME scary because they find Alastair to be even more scary. My techniques for torture, while innovative and excruciating, are vastly different from his. All of his followers began on his rack. Experienced his wrath - and apparently, creativity - first hand. It seems as though he’s messed them all up so bad that they are only intimidated by his specific brand of torture.”

“What’s your point?” Sam asks.

“Well, we happen to know someone who is rather familiar with Alastair’s specific brand of torture.” Crowley answers.

Sam realizes what he’s saying, and they both look to Dean.

Dean’s eyes go wide for only a second before they go dark and he clenches his jaw.

“No,” Sam mutters. “No, he can’t do this. Not with the Mark, it’s too much of a risk-"

“Sammy.” Dean stops him. “I’m doing this.”

“Dean…”

“Sam, please.” He whispers.

Sam doesn’t fight him on it any more than that. It terrifies Sam, but he knows there’s no stopping his brother right now when it comes to finding you. And he doesn’t want to. They have no other options. They need to find you.

Sam prays to Cass, who shows up right away, and he explains the situation to him, telling him they need to be on high alert to keep Dean from going too far off the reservation.

Crowley leaves and then returns a few moments later in the dungeon, with a shackled young demon in tow. He looks maybe 21, like he plucked a frat boy straight out of college as his vessel. The boys bring the demon into the devil’s trap, and chain him to the chair. He’s already pretty beat up, but he’s smiling defiantly.

Dean gathers some supplies: lots of salt, Ruby’s knife, a few syringes, buckets of holy water, and a few other devices he finds lying around the dungeon. He sets them all out on a tray, which he rolls up right next to the demon.

Dean, Sam, Cass, and Crowley all stand in front of the demon.

“Do you know where she is?” Sam seethes.

The demon grins even wider. “Yup. I was THERE. But I’m not tellin’ you.”

Sam glares down at him, and the demon continues.

“And you wanna know something else?” He asks as he leans forward, eyes narrowing, looking right at Dean. “I even got a taste.”

Dean instantly growls out, lunging at the demon and hitting him over and over.

Sam pulls him off and shouts, “DEAN! Can you do this or not?”

Dean swallows hard and steadies his breathing, the Mark pulsing on his arm.

He forces himself to think of you, and getting you back. Seeing your face again. He calms himself down and nods.

“Leave me alone in here.”

Sam takes a step back in surprise.

“Dean, no…”

Dean stands firm and looks around at Sam, Cass, and Crowley.

“You have to let me do this. Alone.” He steps towards Sam and looks into his eyes.

“We need to get her back, Sam.”

Sam swallows and nods hesitantly, and he and Crowley and Cass leave the room, closing the door behind them.

Dean turns to the still smiling demon with a snarl, and picks up a gallon of holy water.

“Where is she?” He demands.

The demon chuckles. “She is SWEET.” He licks his lips. “I had some FUN with her.”

Dean closes his eyes, desperately trying to maintain his composure.

“Where. Is. She?” He asks again.

“She’s a feisty one, too.” The demon goes on. “She’s got a smart mouth. She just kept talking back. Even when I was doing her.”

A bellowing growl rips from Dean’s chest as he lunges forward, grabbing the demon by the chin and pouring holy water down his throat.

The demon’s eyes go wide and he begins choking and thrashing around in his chair.

After about thirty seconds, Dean stops and watches as the demon desperately tries to get some air.

Dean mixes salt and holy water in a bowl, then fills a syringe with the mixture. The demon looks on, wide-eyed as Dean steps forward and stabs the syringe into the inner corner of the demon’s eye.

The demon let’s out an agonizing shriek as Dean plunges the contents of the syringe into his eye socket. As the demon continues crying out in pain, Dean leans forward, feeling the Mark burning on his arm, and whispers,

“You think you’re afraid of Alastair?” He licks his lips, narrows his eyes, and leans even closer.

“You should be even more afraid of his best student.”

This goes on for hours. Dean uses all the techniques of Alastair’s that he can remember.

Sam, Cass, and Crowley all take turns standing just outside the door, listening to the horrific noises coming from the demon. Dean doesn’t take a break, he doesn’t leave the room. Not for a drink, or the bathroom, or even just for some air.

After seven hours, the door slowly opens. Dean steps out, his hands, forearms, shirt, and even face spattered with blood. His chest is heaving and his eyes are bloodshot. Everyone stares at him in anticipation.

He looks at Sam and simply says, “Let’s go.” And starts walking down the hall to his room.

Sam chases him, “He told you??”

Sam follows Dean into his room as Dean grabs his duffel and begins throwing weapons into it.

“He told me.” He answers, not looking up from what he’s doing.

“How do you know he wasn’t lying?”

Dean finishes packing and looks up at Sam, his face hard.

“He wasn’t lying.”

Sam can tell by the look on Dean’s face that he’s sure. And Sam trusts him.

“I’m bringing the First Blade.” Dean states.

Sam’s jaw clenches as he looks at his brother, but he doesn’t argue. He just nods his head. There’s no time to argue, and he knows as well as Dean that the First Blade may be the only way to kill Alastair.

Sam heads to his room to pack quickly, and Dean slowly walks into your room. He hasn’t been in there since you’ve been gone. Since he made love to you on that bed. He couldn’t bring himself to go in.

Until now.

He sits down on the end of the bed and runs his hand along the edge, closing his eyes as he remembers laying in these sheets with you.

He takes a deep breath, opens his eyes, and whispers,

“I’m comin’ for you, Sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta love some BAMF Dean.
> 
> THANK YOU for reading!!!!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's about damn time for the Winchesters to save this girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHO do I think I am, posting three chapters in one day?
> 
> I guess I just really love writing this.
> 
> As always, I truly hope you guys enjoy.

The demon told Dean that Alastair was keeping you in some random little town called Osbourne in, of all places, Kansas.

Only a mere 40 minutes from Lebanon.

Of course, with Alastair’s sick sense of humor, he’d keep you in the same state as the boys, only minutes away, right under their noses but still just out of reach. The demon gave Dean the exact address, described the layout of the house, and said that you were being held in the basement. Dean got every last detail from him.

Carved every last detail from him.

He told Dean that the place is warded against angels and that there are several powerful spells that have been keeping Crowley and any other uninvited demons out as well. Sam, Dean, Cass, and Crowley all agree this means the brothers have to go alone, and that Cass and Crowley will remain on-call for if and when the boys get you out and need help.

No one is saying what everyone is thinking, though: with Cass’ nearly diminished grace, it’s likely he won’t be able to heal you at all. And if you’re too far gone…

Dean’s driving with more urgency and focus than he ever has. The GPS says Osbourne is 40 minutes away, but he’s determined to make it in 20. There’s not much of a plan, just to park Baby a few blocks away from the house and sneak up to it on foot. They don’t care about a plan. They both know that the rage that’s been building up in them these past few months will be enough to destroy any demon that tries to stand between them and you. And Dean’s determined to use the power of the Mark to his advantage this time.

In 19 minutes, they’re in Osborne, KS. They park Baby down the street from the house. They sit in silence for a few brief seconds, mentally preparing themselves to do what they’ve been waiting to do for months. They look at each other, adrenaline and determination in their eyes, and nod.

Then, they get out of the car, grab their weapons, and start walking.

You’re not sure how much longer you can last. Every day, Alastair gives you the same offer he used to in Hell: to end your torture if you admit that he’s finally broken you and you agree to join him, and help him torture others.

Every day, with what little energy you have left, you tell him to shove it.

Today, hanging from the ceiling, fresh cuts, burns, and bruises covering your skin, you’re afraid more than ever that you might just say yes.

But not because of the physical wounds. Those you can handle.

It’s because each day that you become slightly more damaged, you also become more certain that no one could possibly want you in this state. You become more certain that the boys won’t possibly want you in this state.

Hell, who are you kidding. You become certain that Dean won’t.

He didn’t want you before, and that was before Alastair went and fucked you up even more. There’s no possible way he’ll want you now. No possible way you can go back to the life you were starting to form with the boys.

And that thought is what has you on the verge of shattering completely.

“Come on, Y/N,” Alastair croons as he circles you, blood-coated knife in hand, “Just say yes. Tell me how broken you are, how badly you want it to stop. And it will.”

You glare at him with all the strength you have and he smiles.

“They aren’t coming, Y/N. The Winchesters… they don’t care. Come on, you know that.”

He squeezes your face with his hand and forces you to look into his eyes.

“Whatever happened with you and Dean, it meant nothing to him. He doesn’t care. He isn’t coming. You think if the great Winchesters really wanted to find you, they wouldn’t have by now? Please.”

You want to dismiss everything he’s saying, to laugh it off and ignore it. But your body and mind are so weak. So beaten down. You’ve played Dean’s words in your head over and over since the day he said them. Since he told you that what you shared meant nothing. They still sting the way they did the first time he said them. And Alastair can see that in your eyes.

He sticks the knife between two of your ribs and begins pressing slowly, and you cry out in pain.

He holds your face tighter and growls, “You let your walls down for him, didn’t you? And he betrayed you.” He pushes harder and tears well in your eyes.

“And now here you are, with me, and they are nowhere in sight. They’re probably relieved. After everything I told them about you, how damaged you are… they’re probably thanking me for getting you out of their hair.”

It makes you sick how well he knows you, and knows exactly what to say to you to emphasize all of the pain and insecurity you already feel.

He forces the knife further into your side and you gasp out as the tears begin to roll down your cheeks.

Alastair’s face lights up at the sight of you crying.

“That’s it. It’s over, Y/N. You know it. Just tell me you need it to be over. Come on.”

You’re gasping for air now, hardly able to breathe through the pain of Alastair wedging his blade between the bones of your ribs.

You feel the hot tears on your cheek as the salt burns your many open cuts. You feel the walls closing in on you, the physical and emotional pain overwhelming you, and you almost give him what he wants. 

Almost.

Through your cloudy consciousness, you can vaguely hear scuffling upstairs.

“Damn it.” Alastair growls.

You both listen as you hear bodies thudding to the floor above you. Then, the basement door flies open and Alastair turns to face whoever is now stomping down the stairs, and that’s when you hear him say, 

“Well, boys, you found us. Color me impressed.”

His words pull you fully into consciousness. You lift your head and force your eyes to focus on what’s in front of you. And that’s when you see them.

Your already weakly beating heart skips a beat at the sight of them. They look like they’ve just been through war. They’re covered in blood, a little bit of their own and a lot of everyone else’s. Their chests are heaving and their eyes are filled with rage.

“You might want to just turn around and go home, boys. You can’t save her. I mean… look at her. There’s hardly anything left to save. She’s really not worth it anymore.”

You see them glance at you quickly, knowing they can’t take their eyes off of Alastair for more than a split second, but wanting to make sure you’re at least still alive.

“Trust me, fellas.” Alastair says, “It’s too late. And you can’t stop me.”

With that, he lifts his hand and pins the two of them to the wall behind them, their demon and angel blades flying from their hands and onto the floor. They struggle against his force, trying to yell out, but the pressure against their chests leaves them unable to speak.

Alastair just chuckles.

“Just so… foolish. Thinking you could just bust in here and take me down. But the timing is great actually, now the two of you can watch as Y/N finally gives in to me. We were almost there…” He grins at them before turning back to face you.

He lifts the knife back into the same spot in your ribs and you cry out in pain. The boys struggle, looking on with anguish as they hear you scream. The first time they ever hear you scream. They’ve only ever seen you growl – or usually laugh – through the pain.

Each scream you let out tears through their chests. In that instant, watching the tears flow down your cheeks and hearing your strangled screams and cries, they realize how close you are to being broken. How much you must have gone through to get to this point.

Dean’s anger is being overtaken by his raw concern for you. He looks down at the Mark on his arm and sees it glowing dully. He tries to focus all of his energy on the Mark, knowing he needs it’s power to fight Alastair’s hold and reach for the First Blade in his pocket. He strains desperately, but Alastair’s force is so strong he can’t escape it.

“You know it’s over, my sweet girl.” Alastair presses the knife in even further, wiggling the tip against your rib bones. You scream again.

The boys try to scream out, but Alastair’s hold on them is so strong they can only grunt. Your eyes dart to look at them but he holds your face and forces you to look back at him once again.

“It doesn’t matter that they’re here. They can’t save you. No one can. You’re past saving. You know that.” He presses further still, and you whine out as you squeeze your eyes closed tightly, the tears still flowing down your cheeks.

“Come on, Y/N… give me what I want. Admit it. I’ve finally broken you. ” You open your eyes and look at him and he searches them excitedly with his, waiting for you to finally say what he’s been working so hard for.

Your eyes dart once more to the boys.

Your boys.

With a fire that even you didn’t know you still had, you catch your breath.

You stop crying.

You swallow hard, narrow your eyes as you look into Alastair’s, and snarl, “You… will never break me.” 

You see his eyes darken and with as much grit as you can muster you go on.

“No matter what you do, Alastair… I will always… be your reminder… that you’re a failure.” You smirk at him on that last word, and for a few seconds he just stares at you, seething, his chest heaving. 

Dean is so impressed by you, so amazed by your strength, that it gives him strength he didn’t know he had. He looks down at the Mark and it glows bright red. He growls out and pushes himself off the wall, breaking Alastair’s hold on him. Alastair turns to him in shock, then frantically looks back to you.

With a snarl, Alastair lifts his blade once more, plunges it all the way into your side down to the hilt, and then rips it back out. You gasp out as the pain blinds you for a few seconds.

Sam and Dean’s eyes both go wide in concern as they watch Alastair stab you.

Dean’s concern quickly turns back to rage as he reaches in his jacket and pulls out the First Blade, taking a step toward Alastair, his eyes dark, his jaw clenched, and his lip curled into a snarl.

Alastair’s eyes go wide when he sees the Blade and he reaches his hand up, trying to push Dean backwards once again. The force only hits Dean like a soft breeze as he takes another step forward.

Alastair’s eyes go even wider, and he uses even more effort to try to overpower Dean. Dean grunts at the force, struggles against it for a few seconds, and then steps forward again, only a foot from Alastair. 

Alastair furrows his brows and snarls and in that second Dean lunges forward with a growl, pulls the First Blade back, and plunges it into Alastair’s chest as hard as he can. 

Alastair gasps, and Dean looks him deep in the eyes with an unfaltering gaze and whispers,

“You will never touch her again, you son of a bitch.”

“Doesn’t… matter.” Alastair grunts out. “Someone will break her. It has… to be done. She’s… the key… to everything.” Dean looks at him in confusion when Alastair suddenly screams out as light bursts from his eyes and mouth.

After a few seconds, the light is gone abruptly, Dean yanks the Blade from Alastair’s chest, and his limp body crumbles the ground. You let out a gasp of relief at the sight of Alastair’s dead body on the ground. However, that overwhelming relief is quickly overtaken by pain and blood loss, and you slowly drift out of consciousness again.

Sam watches Dean with anxious anticipation, afraid of how he may react after killing Alastair with the Blade.

But to Sam’s shock, as soon as Alastair drops to the ground, Dean immediately drops the Blade like it’s nothing and turns his focus to you.

Sam rushes forward to his side, and for the first time in all the chaos, time seems to stop as they get a real look at you. Their hearts freeze and their stomachs churn.

Your hands are white, nearly all the blood drained from them being suspended above you. Your wrists and forearms are coated in both fresh and old blood as the open wounds created by the chains continue to ooze. Your cheekbones on either side are black and blue and split open from multiple hits. There’s a cut over your right eyebrow. Your lips are split open in multiple places and there’s a cut on the bridge of your nose, which is bleeding. Your eyes are black and blue and red from fresh tears.

Underneath your arms, there are countless burns and cuts. Your neck is covered in black and blue fingerprint marks. Of all the marks on you, those make them feel the most sick. Your chest is the same, covered in bruises and and burns and cuts of all different depths.

The fresh wound in your side is bleeding through your white tank top, which is already ripped and splattered with blood. Your thighs are covered in the same types of wounds, and the deep cut from where Alastair had stabbed you in the thigh back in the motel room is still evident and looks infected. 

There isn’t a spot of skin on your body that isn’t either covered in blood, burns, bruises, or all three.

For a split second, they’re frozen by the shock of your current state. You don’t even look like you should be alive. In that second, neither one of them can comprehend how you’ve fought through it.

“Sam…” Dean croaks out as he shakes his head. They look at each other, tears welling in their eyes, and then they both rush forward. They’re afraid to touch you, knowing any spot on you will be painful. Dean stands in front of you, his eyes searching for yours and he gently cups your bruised cheeks. Sam reaches up and picks at the locks on your wrists.

“Sweetheart.” Dean chokes out, fighting back his tears and the burning in his throat. “Please. Please, open your eyes.” He gently caresses your cheeks and when you don’t respond, he squeezes his eyes shut tightly, forcing tears to run down his cheeks, and leans his forehead against yours.

“Please.” He begs again. “God damnit, Y/N, please open your eyes.”

You take a sudden, shaky breath, and he pulls his head away from yours in surprise.

Slowly, you crack your eyes open.

He breaks out into a shaky, tearful grin.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey.” He says quickly, “There you are, Sweetheart.”

You finally force yourself to focus your gaze on his.

“It is so good to see those beautiful eyes.” He chokes.

You grin as much as you can, and with a raw voice you croak out, “I could… say the same to you, Winchester.”

He lets out an exasperated laugh as he studies your face up and down.

“You killed him.” You mumble.

“Yeah,” He whispers back, still caressing your cheeks, “Yeah, I did. Because of you. You gave me the strength. He will never hurt you again.”

With all the focus you have, you stare intently into those bright green irises and whisper, “Thank you.”

At the same time, Sam finally unlocks your cuffs. You wince as he peels them away from the bloody flesh and the boys both wrap their large arms around your back to help you down.

They freeze when you cry out in pain and they feel the skin on your back. Or the lack of skin on your back.

They immediately switch up, moving their hands so that they’re holding you up by your upper arms and peeking around you to see your back. Their hearts drop all over again when they take in the back side of you.

Your back is shredded, the shirt holding on by threads and the skin bloody, raw, and sliced all over from the hooks on the whip. You have deep red and purple marks all over the back of your legs. They exchange devastated glances as they take it all in.

“I know, I know…” You mutter, “I’ve never…looked better.”

They once again look at each other in concern. Dean comes around to look at you once again.

“Okay, Sweetheart, I need to carry you. And I’m sorry, because this is going to hurt.”

You cough out a chuckle and look into his eyes blearily. “Everything hurts.”

He laughs nervously. “Right.”

Slowly, he wraps his right arm around the middle of your back and his left behind the back of your knees. You wince and grunt out quietly as his arms apply pressure to some of the most injured areas on your body.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Dean repeats as he follows Sam up the stairs. He looks down at you and you look up at him weakly.

He stares down into your eyes and you can see the pain in his face. He repeats himself again.

“I am… so fucking sorry.” His voice breaks, and this time you can tell he’s talking about a lot more than just the way he’s carrying you.

You take a breath to answer him, but as you do, you feel a sharp pain in your side from where Alastair stabbed you. Your hand flies to your side and you lift it weakly in front of your face to see your fingers and palm coated in blood.

Dean sees it too and whispers, “Shit.” Before yelling, “Sam! Hurry!”

He and Sam run the rest of the way to the Impala and he lays you down in the backseat as Sam slides into the driver seat and starts the car. Dean sits next you, pulls your head into his lap and tears off his jacket and then his flannel to press it against the wound on your side. As much as you need a hospital, they know they can’t take you to one. They have an extensive record and you’re still technically a missing person from childhood. It’s too risky.

“Sammy, get us back as fast as possible.” Dean demands. Sam nods and peels out.

Dean looks down at you. “I need you to hold on for me, Y/N. Can you do that? Believe it or not, we’re only a few minutes from home.”

You close your eyes and whimper, “Home.”

He strokes your hair gently with one hand while maintaining pressure on your wound with the other.

Your right hand reaches up and grabs a handful of Dean’s t-shirt and your left lays on top of his hand pressing into your side. You lay this way for about 15 minutes, drifting in and out of awareness, until the pain in your side starts to fade. The pain everywhere starts to fade.

Dean can sense that you’re fading and he breathes out, “Hey, hey, Sweetheart. Stay with me.”

You look up at him blearily and it takes all your strength just to focus on his green eyes.

“S’okay…” You whisper. “Doesn’t… hurt… anymore.” Your grip on his t-shirt loosens and he starts to panic.

“No, no, no!” He gasps out.

Sam desperately seeks in the rearview mirror as he drives.

“What is it, Dean? What’s happening?”

“Drive faster, Sammy!” Is all Dean shouts back.

He looks down at you, his hand on your cheek, desperately trying to keep you with him.

“Sweetheart! Y/N… please.” He begs.

You’re able to focus your eyes on his for only one last second before they close and your hand completely lets go of his shirt, falling limply to your lap.

“NO!” Dean cries out. In that same moment, Sam whips the Impala into the garage and leaps out of the car, opening the back door to help Dean get you out.

“We’re losing her, Sammy.” Dean says, exasperated. Sam just looks at you, wide-eyed, as he helps Dean get you out. Dean takes you in his arms once more and runs into the bunker.

As the door bursts open, Cass and Crowley jump up from where they’re seated at the map table and Dean rushes down the stairs with you.

He looks at Cass and pleads, “Help.” And everyone rushes to the infirmary.

He lays you down gently on a bed and Cass and Crowley take in your current state, which leaves them both speechless.

“Cass,” Dean huffs. “I know… I know it’s a longshot without your grace. But… can you do anything?”

Cass scans you up and down, assessing your wounds. “I… I don’t think I’ve ever seen a human sustain this much injury and still be alive.”

“Cass!” Dean cries. “Please. Can you do anything?”

Cass continues scanning your wounds. “Where is she losing the most blood?”

“Uh, uh… the wound on her side.” Dean answers.

“And her back.” Sam says, pained.

“Her back?” Crowley questions.

Dean gently lifts you to one side to allow Cass and Crowley to see. Cass closes his eyes and winces away and Crowley merely stares, swallowing hard.

“I may be able to partially heal both of those wounds. Enough to stop the majority of the bleeding. But… there is no way for me to replace any of the blood she’s already lost.” Cass says.

“I may be able to help with that.” Crowley responds. Everyone snaps their heads in his direction.

“What?” He whines. “I may not be able to heal her but I can at least do that. Don’t worry, I won’t kill anyone.” And with that, he disappears.

“Hurry, Cass.” Dean whispers desperately.

Cass lifts his hands over the wound on your side and a blue light appears over it. He grunts out for a few seconds, clearly struggling, and then the light fades away. Your wound isn’t gone completely, but it’s a lot less deep and is now hardly bleeding.

“Lift her.” Cass grunts.

The boys gently lift you off of your back and Cass holds his hands over your back as the light appears again. He grunts again and he scans them up and down your back.  
When the light fades, there are still lacerations but there are less of them and they are no longer oozing blood.

Cass pants out and stumbles backwards, and Dean catches him, helping him regain his balance.

“I’m okay.” He states.

Dean grabs his shoulders and looks into his eyes. “Thank you, Cass.”

Cass nods and says, “I should go. I need to rest if I’m ever going to locate Metatron and I can’t… see her like this any longer. Please… keep me updated.” He looks down at you with an expression that almost looks like guilt, and then disappears.

The boys get to work on you, sitting on either side of the bed and cleaning your wounds and stitching up the ones that require it. Each wound they see is a glimpse into what you went through, like sick clues to everything Alastair did.

When they reach the wound on your thigh and begin cleaning it out, they notice fingerprint-shaped bruises lining the inside and outside of your thighs. When Dean sees them, he jumps up from his seat, knocking his chair over behind him.

“God damn it!” He shouts, slapping the wall with an open palm before leaning his forearm on the wall, resting his forehead on the back of his arm and closing his eyes.

Sam runs his hand down his face, resting his palm over his mouth and inhaling deeply.

“This is my fault, Sam.” Dean whispers, his eyes still closed.

“Dean…” Sam begins.

“She should’ve been with us. By our side in that bar that night, not alone in that hotel room. Vulnerable.”

“Dean, Alastair was determined. He was more powerful than he’s ever been. He wanted her. And he would’ve gotten to her no matter what. That isn’t your fault.”

“And the last thing she heard from me was that she didn’t matter to me. That she meant nothing. She spent her entire time with him with THOSE words playing in her head.” Dean croaks out.

Sam sighs. “Yeah, that… that you need to fix. I won’t lie… I spent a long time feeling angry at you, knowing that was the last thing you told her.”

Dean lifts his head and looks over to Sam and Sam continues.

“But, I saw the connection between you two. What you have. And I believe in it. I believe in you and her. And when she wakes up… you need to tell her that you do, too. You need to tell her everything.”

“Sammy,” Dean’s voice breaks, “what if she doesn’t wake up?”

Sam doesn’t answer, just swallows hard and looks down at you.

In that moment, Crowley appears in the room with a bag of blood and an IV. The boys look at him in surprise and he steps forward.

“I possessed a doctor long enough to figure out how to do this.”

He walks up to you and places two needles in your arm, one for the IV and one for the blood. He hangs both bags up and turns to the boys.

“That should help.”

They both just stare at him for a while before Sam mumbles, “Yeah uh… yeah, thank you Crowley.”

Crowley nods and begins to walk out of the room before Dean says, “She really got under your skin, didn’t she?”

Crowley turns to them and chuckles. “Have you met her?”

The boys smile weakly and Crowley turns back around and exits the room.

After they clean your wounds, the boys sit by your side and silently will you to wake up. After a few hours, Sam offers to go and get some food. Both so that he can get some fresh air and to give Dean some time with you.

Dean looks down at you, his eyes red and tired, and squeezes your hand gently.

“Please, Y/N. Come back to me.”

His voice breaks and he tears up as he desperately searches your face.

“Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, if you're still reading this up to this chapter, I'm honored.
> 
> Thanks a ton.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How is the reader going to face everything she's been through once she wakes up?
> 
> I mean, assuming she does wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The feedback I've been getting from you guys on this has been awesome, so thank you for that!
> 
> I cannot stop writing. Help. I'm an addict.

Two days.

It’s been two full days and you haven’t woken up. You haven’t even stirred. Dean hasn’t left your side. He mostly just sits there, holding your hand, studying your face, silently begging you to come back to him.

Sam is in and out of the room, checking on both you and Dean constantly. He brings Dean drinks and food and tries to console him as much as possible, but each passing hour that you remain unconscious gets harder and harder for him as well.

Sam walks into the infirmary with a mug of coffee and hands it to Dean, still seated at your side. Dean looks up at him with tired eyes and nods in gratitude as he takes the mug. He takes a sip and Sam stares down at you, sadness in his eyes.

“Every few hours I see something new.” Dean whispers as he looks at you.

Sam looks down at him in confusion and Dean continues.

“Some new… form of pain she went through. A bruise, a burn, a cut…” He closes his eyes. “There is just so much, Sammy.” His voice breaks as he says Sam’s name and looks up at him. “And you and I both know there is so much more that happened. So much that we can’t see.”

Sam’s jaw clenches. “I know.” He croaks.

“Everything he told us about her. What she’s been through her whole life… what she just went through… Sam, it’s all I can think about.”

Sam swallows hard. “Me, too.”

Dean licks his lips and continues, shakily, “When she wakes up… if… she wakes up. How is she supposed to get past all of it? How can I possibly make it okay for her?”

Sam closes his eyes and sighs before placing a large hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“WE will make it okay for her. However we can. But more than that… she’ll make it okay for herself. I mean, I’ve always considered you and I to be pretty strong. But she makes us look pathetic.” He chuckles.

Dean smiles softly and squeezes your hand.

Sam goes on, “When I say she’s the strongest person I’ve ever met… I mean it. She’s going to wake up. And when she does, we’ll all get through it together.” He pats Dean on the shoulder and leaves the room.

Dean just holds your hand and looks at you for a while.

“You know, he’s right.” He says to you. “You are the strongest person I’ve ever known. So you gotta wake up. You gotta come back to us now. Without you, Sammy and I don’t stand a chance. After our very first day with you here, I wondered how we ever made it through any of the days before that. Before you.” He says, his voice gravelly and emotional.

He scans you up and down once more, his eyes landing on your face. He squeezes your hand with both of his own as tears well in his eyes.

“Please.” He croaks. He leans his head forward onto his hands and squeezes his eyes shut. “Please, Sweetheart. We can’t do this without you. I can’t do this without you.”

A few seconds pass in silence, his head still leaning down on his hands in a silent prayer for you to wake up. And then,

“You look like shit.” You whisper weakly.

His head snaps up and his glassy green eyes connect with your bleary Y/E/C ones. He lets out a teary chuckle of relief.

“Hey.” He brings one hand up to gently grasp the side of your face and caress your cheek. “Hey, there, beautiful.”

You stare deeply into his eyes. “Hi.” You croak.

“It is so good to hear that voice again.” He continues rubbing your cheek and you lean further into his touch, savoring the feeling of his calloused palms on your skin. A feeling you never thought you’d feel again.

“Could say the same to you, Winchester.”

You just stare at each other for a while, taking in every last detail, both of you aware of the fact you thought you might never see each other’s face again.

You watch guilt and sorrow cross his features and you know what’s coming next. He swallows hard.

“Y/N, I am so-"

“Dean, don’t.” You whisper. You’re not ready for this conversation. You’re not ready for the pity and the apologies. And more than anything, you’re not ready to talk about the things he said to you before. Even if he didn’t really mean them then, there’s no way he could want you now. Like this. More damaged than ever.

“I can’t.”

He can tell that you’re not ready to talk, and he doesn’t want to push you. Before he responds, your eyes dart to the glass of water next to your bed and you realize how incredibly thirsty you are.

Dean sees you eyeing the glass.

“Oh, shit, right. Of course.” He answers the question you haven’t even asked yet. He grabs the glass, along with a couple of painkillers. He hands you the pills and you wince at how painful it is just to lift your arm to put them in your mouth. He brings the glass up to your lips and you take a few desperate sips before finally gasping for air. The cool water feels amazing as it goes down your dry throat.

You take a deep breath and Dean studies your face again.

“H-how do you feel?” He asks, hesitantly.

You focus on all the nerves in your body. Every last one of them hurts. Some of them ache, some of them are sharp pains, and all of them are terrible. You don’t want him to see how bad it hurts, but you wince again as you sit yourself up a little in the bed. He instantly reaches his hands out to you, desperately scanning them over your body to figure out how he can help.

“M’okay,” You grumble.

You can see that he doesn’t believe you so you reach one hand out and squeeze one of his.

“Dean, I’m okay.”

He relaxes a little and you slowly reach your other hand under your shirt and up to the wound on your side. The image of Alastair slamming his knife into your side flashes through your mind. You run your hand over it and realize the wound is stitched, but much less severe than you expected.

You look to Dean, “This should be a lot worse.”

He clears his throat. “Yeah, uh… Cass healed it. He couldn’t do much for you without his grace but… he did his best. There and…” His voice falters slightly “and on your back.”

Your jaw clenches and you swallow hard, remembering Alastair whipping nearly all the flesh from your back over and over again. It hurts, but not as much as you know it would, had Cass not healed it.

The more your memories flash before your eyes, the more sure you are that you need to look at yourself. The mere thought creates a lump in your throat.

You take a deep breath, and very slowly bring your eyes down to your body, covered only in your usual – a tank top and shorts.  
Dean opens his mouth like he wants to stop you, but nothing comes out.

As soon as you see yourself, you inhale sharply and squeeze your eyes shut. Dean watches you silently and painfully. You fight the burning feeling of tears that want to form in your eyes. You open your eyes and take it all in.

Each wound brings back a painful memory of everything you experienced. As these memories flash before your eyes, your chest tightens and you can hardly breathe.

Seeing the bruises on your inner thighs makes your breath hitch in your throat.

Slowly, you bring your hand up to your neck, knowing those same fingerprint-shaped bruises cover the skin there as well. You flash through memories of being held down by your throat. If you’re being honest, out of all the marks on your body, you’d want Cass to heal those the most.

“Are they…” Your voice is a shaky whisper. “Are they still there?”

Dean looks as if he’s about to cry again as he looks from your neck to your eyes. His jaw quivers slightly and he looks down sadly.

You close your eyes and exhale slowly, feeling suddenly nauseous.

Dean’s voice is a broken whisper as he tries again, “Y/N… I’m- I’m so-"

“No.” You cut him off. He looks at you with pained eyes before looking down again.

You plead with him in a whisper. “Please.”

You can’t talk about it. You can’t do this with him, not now. It’s too much. For so many reasons.

You aren’t ready to talk about what happened to you. You’re ashamed of everything the boys found out about your past. And how they found out. You’re ashamed of everything that’s just happened to you. Like your childhood all over again.

Beyond that, you’re pissed. You’re fucking furious. You’re angry about everything that was done to you, and the loss of control, and the fact that you allowed yourself to fall into this helpless situation.

And beyond even that, you’re pissed at him. Dean Winchester, this man who you allowed into your life and into your heart and who hurt you so much. You’re so conflicted, because you’re still so angry, but you missed him so much, and you’re so incredibly happy to see him.

And every feeling you had for him before you were taken away is still entirely there.

And you aren’t ready to talk about any of that.

You clear your throat. “I just, uh… where’s Sam?”

Dean’s eyes snap back up to your face as he realizes he completely forgot about Sam.

He turns to the doorway and bellows, “Sammy! Sam!”

You instantly hear Sam’s giant feet jogging down the hall.

“What is it? Is she oka-" He stops as he rounds the corner and his giant puppy dog eyes connect with yours.

He exhales sharply and his open mouth quickly breaks out into a massive grin, which makes you smile too.

“Hey, Sammy.” You whisper.

He strides towards you, places his big hand on your cheek, and leans down to kiss the top of your head. He holds the kiss for a few seconds as he squeezes his eyes shut.

He pulls back, misty-eyed, and looks down at you, “We missed you.”

“Yeah… I missed you guys too.” You look between the both of them. “How long was I out?”

“Couple days.” Sam responds.

You nod slowly. “And uh… how long was I gone?”

They both tense up before Dean croaks out, “Two months.”

You close your eyes and inhale deeply before nodding again.

Sam blurts out, “Y/N, you have to know we never stopped looking. From the second we lost you… we did everything we could. We should’ve found you sooner but-"

You reach up and squeeze his hand, looking at the guilt in his eyes.

“Hey, hey, Sam. I know you did.”

You turn to Dean, who looks ashamed. You look into his eyes and repeat yourself, “I know you did.”

And that’s the truth. Despite what Alastair told you, despite what you even told yourself as you got weaker, you know they did everything they could and they never gave up.

“You found me. I’m here. That’s all that matters.” You look deeply into Dean’s eyes to reassure him, and then to Sam’s, and you can see both of them visibly relax a little.

“So, how did you find me?” You ask.

Sam answers, “Well, on top of us searching constantly, we had Cass and Crowley looking-"

“Wait, Crowley?” You ask in surprise.

“Yeah,” Sam half chuckles. “He’s actually a huge part of how we finally found you. And he’s responsible for that.” He points at the IV in your arm.

You look down at it and raise your eyebrows. “Huh. Wow.”

“The little creep’s got a soft spot for you.” Dean grumbles.

Sam goes on, “He captured one of Alastair’s demons. Eventually, the demon gave up your location.”

You look up at him, your brows furrowed. “One of Alastair’s demons would never be that afraid of Crowley, no matter what he did.”

Sam looks down. “No, uh…” He clears his throat. “Not what Crowley did…” He looks over to Dean.

You turn to him and see him looking down at his hands resting on the bed next to you, his jaw clenched and his shoulders tense. Realization washes over you. Who better to torture someone who’s afraid of Alastair than someone who knows firsthand just how scary Alastair can be.

You lay your hand on top of his and his eyes snap up to yours.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

He exhales sharply. “What?”

“I know… going back to that place… torturing again. That had to be hard. Are you okay?”

He lets out a pained chuckle and looks over to Sam, then back at you.

“What?” You ask.

“YOU’RE asking ME if I’m okay.” He breathes out. “After everything that happened to YOU. Everything you went through…” He trails off and you stiffen up.

You can suddenly feel the both of them looking at you with pity in their eyes and your throat goes dry again.

You clear your throat and shift uncomfortably in the bed, both of their stares boring holes into the strong façade you’ve been keeping up.

“I need a drink.” You rasp, trying to ease the tension in any way possible.

“Oh, yeah, here.” Dean states as he reaches for your glass of water.

“Uh, no.” You reply. “A real drink. And a burger.”

Dean looks at you and then to his brother, and he and Sam have a silent conversation, as if they’re deciding if they’re going to allow you to have what you’re asking for.

“Okay…” You grumble, annoyed, “I’ll get it myself.” You wince as you sit up and reach your hand toward the IV’s in your arm.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Dean shouts, leaning over and grabbing you gently by the forearm. “I don’t think so, Sweetheart. You just woke up. You need to stay in bed.”

You turn to him slowly and your eyes narrow at him. Sam gulps hard, nervous for his brother who usually knows better than to tell you what to do. They both know better than that.

“I’ll uh… go run out and get you that burger.” Sam mumbles as he rushes out of the room.

You continue to glare at Dean, but his expression instantly softens.

“Please, Y/N… you need to stay in bed. I-I know you’re gonna say that you’re okay and that you don’t need help but PLEASE.” His eyes are pleading with you, desperately begging you to listen to what he’s saying, as he goes on.

“I almost lost you. I don’t… I can’t even…” He looks down as his voice breaks.

You swallow hard, waiting for him to finish his thought.

“Just, please let me take care of you. In whatever way possible. I know you don’t want to talk yet. And I know that even a million apologies won’t make up for the things that I said to you. And I have so much to prove.”

He looks back up at you.

“But I am so sorry. For everything. And… we don’t have to talk about it any more than that right now. I-I don’t want to push you. I want to do whatever you need, however you need it. Just please, let me help you.”

You don’t know how to respond to him. You can feel how genuine he is, how desperate. You can see in his eyes all the pain he’s felt these past couple of months.

“Okay.” You whisper.

He nods. “Okay.”

“Then, what I need right now…” You mutter.

He looks on in anticipation.

“Is a fucking drink.” You smirk slightly.

He grins, his tired eyes lighting up, and his smile gives you butterflies. Even after everything.

He leans forward, voice husky. “Then I’ll get you a fucking drink.”

His proximity to you and the tone of his voice and the way his lips move remind you just how much you truly missed him. You can tell by the way he’s looking at you that he feels the same way. You hold this gaze, this heated connection, for a few seconds before he whispers,

“I’ll be right back.” And he heads out of the room.

You don’t know what just happened, but it’s definitely thrown you off. You weren’t prepared for him to make you feel this way again so quickly. You’re flooded with relief at the realization that you can still even be turned on after everything that was done to you. Then, you’re flooded with anger as you once again remember what was done to you.

Something tells you this roller coaster of emotions is going to become a common thing for you.

Now that you’re alone, as soon as you’re alone, the images flash through your mind and hit you like bullets. You look down again at your own battered body and a lump forms in your throat. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly again and then open them quickly, trying to chase away the memories. Just when you feel like you might scream, you hear Dean’s voice in the hallway.

“Alright, gorgeous, I shouldn’t be giving this to you, but what can I say, I’m a sucker for-" He rounds the doorway and gets a look at your panicked expression. He rushes toward you, placing two bottles of beer on the table next to you and kneels next to the bed.

“Hey, hey. What is it? Are you okay?” His eyes are searching you up and down in concern. As your overwhelmed gaze meets his, those bright green irises instantly calm you. You take a deep breath and nod.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m okay.”

He places a hand gently on your arm.

“Y/N…” His tone is soft, begging you to open up to him.

“I was just… remembering.” You mutter breathlessly.

He clenches his jaw but his eyes remain soft. You can tell he wants to say so many things at once and yet can’t manage to get any of them out, and you still don’t want him to. You don’t want to talk about it and you don’t want to remember.

Before he can say anything you blurt, “I need Sam to get back with those burgers. I’m so hungry it feels like I haven’t had a real meal in two months.” You mean it as a joke, but the anguish in his eyes tells you it didn’t land that way.

“Ugh, Dean, I’m fine. Just hungry. And…” You look at the bottles of beer.

“Thirsty.” You grin slightly and he softens. He reaches over, pops the top off both of the beers, and hands you one with a smile.

"I can't believe you just woke up after being out for 2 days and held captive for 2 months and you're already ready for a burger and a beer. That's just about the most bad ass thing I can think of."

"You're god damn right it is."

“To you.” He raises his bottle, “Welcome home, darlin’.”

You raise your bottle with his, smile, and look at him earnestly.

“Thank you for bringing me home, Winchester.”

Sam soon returns with the burgers and you eat yours like it’s your first and last meal all at once. You moan after each bite and roll your eyes in bliss. The boys just watch you, grins plastered on their faces, both feeling a sense of peace for the first time in two months.

Both finally able to relax slightly, knowing their girl is finally home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be honest, I'll probably post another chapter before the night is over.
> 
> There's a lot more healing to be done.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that she's awake and back at the bunker with the boys, the reader must begin to face everything she's gone through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Promised you I'd have another one for you tonight.
> 
> Just had to finish watching tonight's episode before I could focus on this.
> 
> You know, priorities.

The boys have “let” you move back into your own room.

The fact that you’re still so weak you have to depend on them to “let” you do things is absolutely infuriating and is going to take a lot of adjusting.

They wouldn’t let you walk there, but you were certain your legs wouldn’t work yet anyway, so you didn’t protest too much when Dean carried you.

You couldn’t believe how much you missed it. Everything just as you had left it. Your books, your movies, your clothes. All these things you were certain you would never have again.

You haven’t been allowed to leave your room, though. The boys are constantly in there, checking on you, bringing you food and drinks, just being generally overbearing.

Since you can’t walk yourself to the showers and you refuse to let either one of them help you with that (you’re still determined to maintain some dignity), you’ve only been able to wash yourself up in your room.

Dean is doing everything he can to make you comfortable, to be there for you without pushing you. He’s stopped trying to force an apology on you, and yet every time you look at him you can see how sorry he is. He continues to show it with his actions. Anything you need, he’s there. He’s supporting you consistently, and although you’re struggling with forgiving him for the things he said, you can see how hard he’s trying.

You believe he’s sorry, but you aren’t sure that it even matters. Because even if he’s sorry for what he said and how he said it, that doesn’t mean it wasn’t true. That doesn’t mean he actually wants you.

You don’t sleep. You can fall asleep just fine, your body and mind are beyond exhausted. But you don’t stay asleep. The second you drift off, you’re taken right back to that basement. And it all feels so real. 

Alastair cutting into you. Groups of demons pinning you down, throwing you around, laughing as they torture you. The memories all blend together and sometimes, your stepfather is there. Alongside Alastair, both of them taking turns making you scream. And you do scream. You scream in those dreams until you wake up screaming, sweating, panting, desperately trying to calm your racing heart. Each time the boys run in in a panic to check on you. Each time you tell them it’s fine, you’re alright, you don’t want to talk about it.

You ask them to stop coming in every time they hear you scream. You tell them it’s because when they come in it makes it harder for you to fall back asleep, but the truth is that it’s just too embarrassing. You hate letting them see you in this vulnerable state. You hate that god damn LOOK that seems to be permanently plastered on their faces each time they’re around you. The pity. The fucking pity. Looking at you like you’re weak. Like you’re going to break into a billion pieces at any second.

Eventually, after much begging on your part, they stop coming in every time you wake up screaming. It kills them. They lie in their beds, their hearts breaking, as they hear you beg an invisible perpetrator to get off of you. It hurts them, but they’re trying to do anything they can to be there for you. Including not being there when you beg them not to.

During the day, you act like the nights never happened. You spend half of your time trying to convince the boys that you’re fine, and the other half trying to convince yourself. You do your best to avoid looking at yourself at all costs, hoping that the wounds are fading with each passing day. You never look in the mirror. Most of your bandages have been removed, except for the ones on the wounds around your wrists. Those are only still on because you can’t bear to look at those wounds and think about the chains and ropes that created them.

Each time the boys look at you, you can see them trying to assess your mental state, trying to get through to you to get you to open up to them. But you don’t want to do that. You want to push it away as if it never happened, and you really wish they would too.

Today, Dean’s out getting everyone lunch and Sam decides to come talk to you alone. You’re sitting on your bed listening to music and reading when he knocks on the open door and steps inside.

“Hey, Sam.” You put your book down.

“Hey, Y/N.” He walks in slowly before sitting down next to you on the bed. He looks you up and down hesitantly, and you can tell this is going to be one of THOSE conversations.

“Sam…” You raise you eyebrows and tilt your head at him, trying to coax him to spit out whatever he’s thinking.

He sighs deeply before his big brown eyes connect with yours.

“Look, I… I know you say you’re fine. And-and I want you to be. More than anything. But… Y/N, what you went through-"

“Sammy, I am fine.” You reassure him. “Seriously we don’t have to do this.”

“Just hear me out.” His eyes are practically begging. “Please.”

You don’t answer, just nod for him to go on.

“I just want you to know it’s okay for you NOT to be okay.”

You want to stop him again, to cut him off and tell him to drop it and to never bring it up again. You don’t want to listen to his reason, even if you know he’s right. Because doing that would mean admitting to him, to Dean, and to yourself that you aren’t fine. And that would make you weak. And you can’t let them see you any weaker than they already have.

You want to stop him, and yet… there’s something about your bond with Sam that has him getting through to you even when you don’t want him to. So you let him continue.

“Dean and I, we’ve been through a lot. A Hell of a lot. Literally.” He chuckles. “But what you went through... as a child, and then in Hell, and then again just now… Y/N, I…” He looks at you with pained eyes, “I can’t even imagine.”

You clench your jaw and take a deep breath, and he places his hand on top of yours.

“At some point, you have to accept what you’ve been through, to-to deal with it. Or it will never stop haunting you. Sometimes talking about it, saying it all out loud, just getting all that emotion out whatever way you can... that’s all it takes. To start to move on.”

“Sam, please…” You whisper. “I’m f-"

“You’re fine. I know. But… whenever you decide you’re not fine, I’m here. Dean is here. And when you’re ready, we’ll be ready too. You’re not alone, Y/N. I just…” He sighs. “I just wanted you to know that.” He squeezes your hand and smiles at you gently.

You look down at his hand, squeeze it back, then look back at his face. Those damn puppy dog eyes. You smile slightly back at him.

“Thank you, Sam.”

“C’mere,” He chuckles as he wraps his large arms around you and pulls you tightly into his chest.

You hug him back, and he whispers. “I really missed you.” You don’t say anything, just hug him even tighter, and stay that way for a few seconds. He pulls back and clears his throat as he stands up.

“Okay, okay, I’ll leave ya alone now.”

You chuckle, “Yeah, get outta here, Ivy League.” He laughs as he exits your room and heads down the hall.

The next few days consist of you still trying to convince the boys that you’re fine, both physically and emotionally, that you can handle getting up and walking around the bunker on your own, and Dean shooting you down each and every time. The truth is, you only let him boss you around because you’re afraid you really won’t be able to stand if you try, and you don’t want them to see that.

So, you’ve resorted to sending them both out of the room at the same time for things you don’t really need, just so you can practice getting up without an audience. Every time they leave, you scoot yourself to the edge of the bed, feel the cool floor beneath your feet, and slowly put your weight on your legs. And each and every time, you nearly collapse to the ground.

It’s unbelievably frustrating. Each time, you picture Alastair laughing at you as you fall back down onto the bed. You hate that even though he’s gone, he’s still keeping you from being able to stand on your own two feet. He’s taken so much from you. It makes you want to scream and cry and punch something all at once. But, you don’t give up. Each day, you continue trying. You continue fighting, just as you always have.

This time, Sam’s out grocery shopping and you’ve sent Dean down the hall to grab you something a little stronger than beer for once. While he’s gone, you quickly swing your legs over the side of the bed, plant your feet firmly on the ground, and stand slowly.

A grin creeps across your face as you steady yourself and take a step forward, then another. It’s tough, you can’t lie. Every muscle aches and the marks on the bottom of your feet and across the back of your legs shoot sharp pains straight up your spine.

But you don’t care. You’re walking. On your own. Slowly but surely, convincing yourself that you’re not weak.

Reminding yourself that you never were.

In your excitement, you don’t hear Dean’s footsteps leading back to your room. He enters the doorway and you look at him and freeze. He looks you up and down, his eyebrows raised, before his eyes darken slightly.

“Caught ya.” He states.

You smirk slightly and shrug, “Oops.”

A smile of what looks like pride flashes across his face before he becomes serious again.

“Back in bed.” He commands.

Your smirk remains as you stare him down.

“Make me.”

He strides toward you until he’s inches from you and your heart is fluttering. His eyes bore into yours, but you stand tall, both because you want to show him you’re not intimidated and because you’re just proud that you can.

The corner of his mouth almost curls into a smile and before you know it, he’s lifting you (gently, trying to touch as little of your wounds as possible) and carrying you back over to the bed. You gasp when he lifts you, offended but also laughing as he places you down onto the bed. He’s chuckling too as you squirm out of his grasp and he sits down on the bed next to you.

“Don’t test me, Sweetheart.”

You nod toward the bottle of whiskey he brought in with him and smirk at him.

“Share that with me?”

His playful smile remains and he chuckles out, “I don’t know, you weren’t exactly a good girl just now.”

You continue smirking but you lean forward, look his face up and down and whisper.

“I’ll never be a good girl. Please, Dean?”

His expression quickly goes from playful to flustered. He shifts in his seat and clears his throat before a boyish grin creeps across his lips.

“As you wish.”

You grin as he hands you the bottle and you take a long swig. You close your eyes and savor the flavor, the way it burns as it goes down. You take another long sip, your eyes still closed, and you don’t see the way Dean licks his bottom lip as he watches you wrap your lips around the tip of the bottle.

“Mmmm,” You moan, opening your eyes to see Dean watching you with a gaze that looks like it could start a fire.

“Two months without something really makes you realize how god damn good it is.” You hand him the bottle and he continues staring at you as he takes his sip. Now it’s you who’s watching his mouth as he pulls back from the bottle and licks the whiskey from his lips.

Dean is so uncertain about everything right now. He expected you to hate him when you woke up. He deserves that. He still hates himself, and every second that he’s around you, he wants to tell you that. He wants to tell you everything. Everything he thinks, everything he feels. But he can’t yet. He knows you aren’t ready and he can’t make this about him, no matter how badly he wants to let it all spill out.

He’s amazed by the way the spark between you hasn’t dulled in the slightest. By the way your beautiful eyes still look at him the way they always have. He knows he doesn’t deserve that, and he knows there’s so much more he needs to say, but right now in this moment, he can’t stop the way his heart beats out of his chest every time his eyes connect with yours.

You feel the whiskey pooling in your belly, along with another kind of heat, and you can hear yourself breathing heavily. You’re such a mix of emotions. You’re in pain still, from head to toe. You’re so happy to be home, and yet so uncomfortable being looked at like a fragile piece of china that may break at any second.

You’re struggling with the memories of Alastair putting his hands all over you, and everything he did to you. Yet, somehow, there’s a part of you that still wants Dean to put his hands all over you. To finally be touched by someone that you want to have touching you.

Going right back to flirting with him like you always used to somehow brings you a comfort and feeling of normalcy that you’ve been missing so much. Then, you remember what he said to you. You remember that despite how much he’s been proving himself, you’re still angry. You remember that he doesn’t want you, could never want you, especially like this. But, then… why is he looking at you like that?

Your head is spinning and his piercing gaze and plump lips are calling out to you and you can see in his eyes that he feels this too. He rests a large hand gently on your knee and slowly leans toward you.

And suddenly, you're throwing your body at him. Your lips collide with his and although even kissing him hurts, you like this pain.

You moan into his mouth and a growl sounds from deep within him. He doesn’t touch you anywhere, half afraid of hurting you and half unsure that he should even be kissing you right now in the first place. You reach a hand up and tangle your fingers into the hairs at the nape of his neck.

In this moment, his mouth on yours, tasting the whiskey on his tongue as it dips in and out of your mouth and tangles with yours, smelling the gunpowder and leather scent that is Dean Winchester, you feel safe for the first time in so long.

You pull him closer, and he leans down, his body suddenly above yours on the bed. You inhale deeply as he runs a hand gently up your side and brings his mouth down to kiss along your jaw and down toward your neck.

And then you close your eyes.

And as soon as you do, Dean’s lips become Alastair’s. His hands become your step father’s. You’re picturing the faces of all the monsters in your life who have held you down and been on top of you just like this.

Your heart begins pounding in a different way and you’re choking on the air in your lungs. You let out a sudden, strangled cry as your body shoots up, pushing Dean off of you in the process. He jumps off of the bed and away from you, alarmed and confused for only a second until he sees your expression and his heart drops into his stomach.

You’re panting heavily, eyes wide and pained as your fists clench the sheet beneath you.

You look at him shamefully.

“I’m sorry.” You pant out.

He looks back at you and once again you can see that damn pity in his eyes, now mixed with guilt.

“No, no… I’m sorry. I should’ve known better, I should’ve known-"

“Dean. It’s not your fault, okay? It’s mine.” You’re embarrassed and ashamed, not only because of your panic attack but also because you know he doesn’t truly want you anyway, and you’ve made a fool of yourself yet again.

“I just… I need a shower.”

You move to get up again and he reaches out to stop you. “No, no-"

“Dean!” You shout, freezing him in his tracks.

You let out a few more broken pants before you almost sob, “I need to get him OFF of me.” His jaw clenches as you continue.

“I need… I need to get them all off of me.”

He doesn’t say anything to that. He just nods and takes a step back. You push yourself off the bed and stand slowly, your eyes once again connecting with his. You take a deep breath and calm yourself down a little.

“I’m sorry. I’m fine, though, okay?” You place a hand on his chest.

“I’m fine.” You repeat. “Just need a shower.”

You force a grin, pat him once on the chest, and break away from him to collect a towel and some clothes. He just watches you, silently, his jaw clenched and his eyes concerned. He lets you leave the room without another word, and for that you’re relieved.

Dean leaves your room, heads to the kitchen, pops a beer, and sits down, defeated. At the same time, Sam returns home with the groceries and heads into the kitchen to unpack them. As soon as he enters, he can tell by Dean’s face that something happened.

“What is it?” He asks.

“She’s not fine, Sam.” Dean grumbles.

“Yeah… yeah, I know. But we just need to give her time.” Sam sighs.

“She’s more stubborn than the two of us combined. I don’t know if we have that kind of time.” He takes a sip of his beer.

Sam doesn’t answer. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about that, too. He just continues unpacking the groceries.

“Where is she?” He asks.

“Shower. She’s walkin’ around already.”

“Well,” Sam softly chuckles. “Sometimes that stubbornness can come in handy, huh?”

Dean just takes another sip of his beer.

When you enter the bathroom, you don’t look in the mirror. Especially not when you take your clothes off. You don’t look down, you don’t even look at your arm as you reach it in front of you and turn the water on.

Your breathing is still heavy, you still feel like you want to scream. As soon as the water is hot enough, you step in slowly. You wince and jump when it hits your skin. It soothes and burns your wounds at the same time. It awakens all of the aches and pains but it also feels so good to finally be taking a real shower again.

“I’m fine.” You whisper to yourself. You stand with your head under the water, forehead pressed against the wall, trying to slow your breathing. You squeeze your eyes closed and take slow, deep breaths. You pick your head up and slowly turn to allow the water to run down your back. As soon as it hits the wounds on your back, the pain is immense.

You gasp out, breathe through your nose, then repeat yourself, “I’m fine.” As you adjust to the pain, fear bubbles inside you because you know you need to look at yourself. To truly see it all, all at once.

You take another deep breath, let it out slow, and bring your eyes down to scan your naked body.

Your breath instantly hitches as a lump forms in your throat. Your eyes flash all along your arms, chest, down your stomach and your legs, and back up. You run your fingers along the wound on your thigh and flash back to Alastair slamming the knife into your leg in front of the boys.

“I’m fine.” You huff as you shake that memory away, but it’s immediately followed by him slamming the knife into your side as you touch that wound gently.

You run your hands over the cuts on your arms, remembering the agonizingly slow pace with which each one was inflicted. You feel the raised burns and flash back to Alastair’s illuminated smile as he held the glowing poker to your flesh.

Then, you see the bandages still covering your wrists. You take a deep breath, and murmur “I’m fine” as you exhale.

Slowly, you remove the bandages and let them drop on the shower floor. You gasp softly as you take in the wounds on your wrists. The still-swollen flesh marred by constantly being bound by chains and ropes. You let out a small sob remembering your hands being strung up above you or strapped down beside you or tied to a bed post over and over and over again.

“Fine…” You sob out. Then, you see your chest. There are cuts and burns, all somehow still so prominent. Your heart drops to your stomach and tears begin to well in your eyes. The memories of each mark flash through your mind. You’re seeing Alastair and all the others on top of you, no matter how hard you fight.

You try to shake the memories from your mind, place your trembling hands on the side of your head and steady yourself, bring yourself back to reality, but no matter what you do you can’t stop seeing everything that was done to you again.

Feeling it again.

Your breathing is ragged and fast and as the memories continue to flash, the emotion and the anger and the pain all bubble over and you can’t hold any of it in anymore and you scream. You scream, and sob and pound the wall and yet the memories remain. You double over, drop to your knees, and scream again.

The boys are sitting at the map table when they hear your screaming and jump to their feet. They hear you cry out again, just like you do during your nightmares, and they look at each other in a panic, unsure of what to do. You scream out one more time, and Dean’s jaw clenches, his eyes narrow, and he slams his beer down on the table, turning to walk toward the bathroom.

Sam takes a few steps after him and grabs him by the arm, warning, “Dean, she asked us not to-"

“I don’t care.” Dean says as he pulls away and continues walking.

“Dean!”

“I said I don’t care!” Dean yells as he stomps down the hallway as quickly as possible.

He’s so angry. So angry that you are going through this. So angry at Alastair for everything he did to you. So angry at all those sons of bitches that touched you that are still out there somewhere. So angry at himself for allowing you to suffer alone for this long. He should have known better. You’re just like him. Going through everything alone, never reaching out for help, even when you desperately need it.

Well, he’s done letting you suffer. He’s realized that he knows you better than you know yourself. And you need someone right now.

No, you need him right now.

The inexplicable connection that he has with you tells him that. And as insecure as he’s been, as much as he’s hated himself, this isn’t about him. And he’s going to be there for you, no matter what.

He bursts into the bathroom and without hesitation, opens the shower door. He looks down at you kneeling on the floor and you look up at him with bloodshot eyes and in that instant he just KNOWS. He knows you’re ready for him to be there for you. He rushes into the shower, clothes and shoes still on, and drops to his knees in front of you, letting the water soak him.

You sob out and instinctively wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in his chest. He wraps his clothed arms around you and holds you as tightly as he can. He squeezes his eyes closed as he brings one hand up to cup the back of your head and hold you against him and rubs your back with the other. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t move, he just holds you as the water falls down on the both of you.

You don’t know how long you stay that way. You sob and pant into his chest until you physically can’t anymore. He just keeps his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you close to him and keeping you grounded while all of your pain threatens to pull you away. Finally, you pull your face away from his chest and look up and him. He takes your face in both of his hands, and studies your eyes carefully.

Slowly, he helps you stand. He turns off the water, grabs your towel, and wraps it around your body. He opens the bathroom door for you, and you step out. He places a hand gently on the small of your back and simply walks beside you until you arrive at your room. You turn to him, and the two of you look at each other for a while without speaking.

Finally, he speaks up, simply saying, “Okay?”

And somehow, you are.

You nod slightly. “Okay.”

He nods back at you.

“Okay.” He repeats as he takes a step back and you take a step into your room.

You look at each other one last time before you close your bedroom door. You stand there for a few seconds before letting out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding in.

You don’t feel weak. Despite the fact that you just screamed and sobbed and cried and you did it all in front of Dean, you don’t feel weak. The way he simply held you and supported you without pitying you, it was exactly what you needed. And he knew that before you even did.

You close your eyes, assessing how you feel. Realizing that for the first time, you actually do feel okay.

And it’s because of Dean Winchester.

Once again, he broke down the walls that you were desperately trying to hold up. You know you still have a long way to go, but he’s given you a place to start.

And that place may just be with forgiving him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the reader's emotions are a god damn roller coaster.
> 
> But I mean, that's how they really would be for anyone who's gone through what she has.
> 
> Sorry for the total smut tease. Don't worry, I'll totally make up for it.
> 
> Thanks for reading, as always. You guys are honestly the fucking best.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys continue to help the reader move on from her traumatic past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for some very sappy, very adorable Winchester boys.
> 
> Oh yeah, and for some more smut.

You sleep most of the next day, exhausted from letting everything out the night before. The boys don’t bug you, they just let you rest. You still wake up with nightmares a few times, but it’s the first time since you’ve been back that you’ve been able to sleep without waking up screaming every hour, and for that they’re grateful.

In the early evening, you wake up, feeling rested for the first time in months. You put on makeup for the first time since you’ve been back. You brush out your hair and run your fingers through it. You put on your favorite black jeans, your faded Seger tour shirt, and your boots. Even though the clothing hurts your wounds, it feels so good to have it all on.

You look in the mirror and asses your current state. Despite your makeup, the cuts on your cheeks and the bruises on your neck are still visible. The wounds on your wrists are still apparent, the swollen red flesh a long way from healing fully. Despite these things, you feel like you. You feel some of your confidence returning.

As you exit your room, the smell of food instantly hits you. You follow it out to the kitchen, where the boys are clumsily walking around and bumping into each other, seemingly trying to cook something. You walk into the doorway and just stand there, arms crossed, leaning against the door frame, smiling as you watch them.

Suddenly, they both notice you and they freeze in their tracks. At first, they’re both looking at you in complete awe. Their mouths are agape, their eyes scanning you up and down. Then, they both smile.

“You two alright?” You ask with a smirk, eyebrows raised.

They both stare for a few more seconds before shaking themselves out of their trance.

“Y/N… you look amazing.” Sam says with a smile.

You roll your eyes and raise an eyebrow at him.

“I wouldn’t go that far, Sam. I know I still look like hell.”

He grins wider, “No! No, seriously. You look great. You look like you. I just mean, you look-"

“Perfect.” Dean cuts him off. Your eyes flash from Sam to Dean and you see him gazing at you in amazement. You feel your cheeks flush a little as you gaze back at him.

Then, you notice something sizzling and the faint smell of something burning and you nod towards the stove.

“What’s goin’ on here?”

Both boys are snapped back to reality when they remember the food they have cooking. They rush over to the stove and you chuckle as you watch them burn their fingers and get in each other’s way as they tend to the food in the pans. Sam reaches to grab something from the counter and bumps into Dean as Dean tries to stir whatever is in the pan, and Dean turns to him with a, “DUDE!”

“Sorry!” Sam shouts back, “We gotta add the sauce!” He pours sauce over the food that Dean’s stirring and that’s when you smell exactly what they are making.

“Are you… are you guys making my signature dish?” You ask in surprise.

They both look at you sheepishly.

“We’re trying.” Dean says.

“I remembered everything you bought to make it that day at the store… so we figured why not try it out.” Sam says as he continues mixing the sauce into the pan.

You take a step forward and assess the mess the boys have made and it makes your heart swell. You smile at them and take another step forward to attempt to help them, but Dean turns around and puts his hands out toward you.

“No, no, Sweetheart. We are doing this for you. You don’t lift a finger. Just go have a seat and relax.”

You grin at him as you back up.

You go to turn to leave the kitchen and Sam shouts, “Wait!”

You stop and look back at them as Sam looks at Dean and nods to him, raising his eyebrows, trying to communicate with him without words. Dean looks at him in confusion for a few seconds, but then Sam nods to the fridge and Dean’s eyes light up.

“Ah, right!” He exclaims as he rushes over to the fridge and pulls something out.

He spins around to face you and holds something out in front of him with a beaming grin. You look at his hands and a smirk forms on your face when you realize he’s holding a big bottle of wine.

“You guys got me wine, too?” You smile as you look back and forth between the two of them.

“Not just any wine.” Dean drawls. “Moscato.” He winks at you, and your heart flutters.

Sam continues stirring the food and Dean pops the cork from the bottle, pouring you a glass. He hands it to you and you look at him with gratitude.

You look into each other’s eyes for a few seconds before he says, “Okay, now you go relax. It’ll be done soon.”

You take a sip of wine, lick your lips, and whisper, “Yes, sir.” Before turning and exiting the kitchen.

You don’t see the way Dean pulls his bottom lip into his mouth after hearing your words and bites it as he watches you walk away, wearing those jeans that he’s missed so much.

About ten minutes later, the boys are bringing a big pan of food out to the table where you’re seated in the library. You grin while you watch their excited expressions as they bring it out to you, clearly proud of themselves. Dean places the food in front of you as Sam sets the table for you three. Dean tops off your glass of wine, pours one for himself and for Sam, and then the two of them sit down across from you.

They grin at you, looking like two little kids awaiting their parents’ approval. You chuckle at them, look down at the food, and look back up at them.

“Looks amazing.”

They continue looking at you.

“You have to try it.” Sam says.

You laugh again before taking a big bite. To your surprise, it actually tastes good. Really good.

You moan out an approving “Mmmm” as you take another bite. The boys look at each other, smile, then look back to you as you finish chewing and swallow.

Their eagerness is so adorable and your heart flutters as you realize just how much these boys care about you.

You take a deep breath, grin, and say “A+.”

They both break out into huge grins.

“Really?” Sam asks.

You nod. “Really. Better than mine, even.”

“Now, that is impossible.” Dean says. “But if it’s even half as good, we’ll be satisfied with that.”

“It’s damn good.” You look back and forth between them. “Thank you.”

They both smile. “Anything for you, Sweetheart.” Dean croons.

They both get some food of their own and the three of you eat and drink and enjoy each other’s company just like you always had. It feels good. It feels normal.

Once you all finish your food, you just sit there laughing and joking for a while.

“An amazing dinner.” You say, “And even better wine.” You joke as you wink at them and take a sip. 

They chuckle and as you pull your glass away from your mouth you joke again, “I really thought I’d never get to taste wine again. Now, THAT would have been the real shame.”

You grin at them, but they don’t smile back. They tense up immediately. That look of pity returns to their faces for the first time all night and your heart sinks.

You just had to make a joke.

You were so close to having a normal night with them. To feeling like maybe the days of them looking at you like THIS were over. But, you realize now they’ll never be over until you end them. Until you face it head on and tell them everything you’re thinking and feeling.

Great, your favorite thing to do.

You put your glass down on the table, clear your throat, and look at their guilt-ridden faces.

“Okay, this has gotta stop.” You say.

They look at you, confused, and you clarify.

“You have to stop looking at me like I’m going to break, and you have to stop feeling so guilty all the time.”

They realize what you’re saying and they both look down, like scolded puppies.

You sigh. “I know you’re just worried about me. But I’m never going to get over this if you guys can’t.”

Sam sighs. “You’re right. Sorry. We just…” He trails off, searching for the words.

“We can’t stop imagining everything that happened to you. No matter how hard we try not to.” Dean says. His words hit you like you a bullet and you close your eyes.

Sam looks at him in surprise and admonition, but he goes on.

“It makes me so god damn angry, Y/N. Thinking about everything that must have happened. Sammy, too. It kills us to think about it and imagine it and then it kills us even more because YOU had to actually go through it. And now you’re stuck with the memories of it all and we can’t fix those.” His jaw clenches as he struggles to get those last few words out.

Sam picks up where he left off.

“But the truth is… we can’t even imagine it. We can’t even begin to imagine what you really went through and we know it’s selfish to even feel any way about it at all because it’s your experience and your pain. Pain that you… that you won’t talk about it. And- and you don’t have to. Not until you’re ready. All we want to do is help with it, but we…we don’t know how.”

You can see the pain in their eyes as they speak to you. You know they’re right. Last night was the first step toward moving forward. But you know the next step is talking about it.

“Okay.” You sigh. “No more imagining all the horrible things that have happened to me, then.”

They look at you with confused expressions.

“You’re both right. You need to stop imagining everything that happened to me, and I need to stop pretending that all these things haven’t happened to me. So, I’m going to tell you.”

They both swallow hard as they realize what you’re saying.

“I’m going to tell you…” You take a deep, shaky breath, “So that you can finally understand it, and I can finally accept it, and then we can all finally move on from it. Okay?”

They don’t say anything, just simply nod their heads. You take another deep breath, squeeze your eyes closed for a few seconds, and then begin.

“Everything Alastair said about my childhood is true. I thought… that I was going to die in that house. I prayed every single night for him to accidentally shoot me up with just a little too much so that I’d die. I prayed that maybe one of them would get a little too rough and accidentally kill me. I’d have killed myself if I hadn’t been tied to the bed constantly. And that’s the truth.” The boys are incredibly tense, their eyes full of rage and pain as they listen to you.

“But then Crowley showed up. He helped me kill them all and got me out of there, and told me that all it would cost was my soul. I don’t know why he was only supposed to offer me one year. But he offered me three. I would’ve gone to Hell right that second if he’d asked. I would have gone anywhere or done anything as long as he got me out of there. So I accepted his deal. And I…” You pause for a second, needing to take a breath.

“I made sure they all died slowly. I cut the life out of each and every one of them. And I’d do it again. And again.” You state.

Dean closes his eyes and Sam swallows hard, and you continue.

“Crowley got me out of there and cleaned the mess up and I never looked back. I hunted on my own for three years, and then my bill came due and I went to Hell.” You look at Dean to assess his reaction, but he only stares down at his drink and clenches his jaw.

“It’s true that I was there for three hundred years. It was painful and bloody but the honest truth is that I didn’t even care. I hadn’t had much of a life, I had nothing to lose, and I was ready to suffer there forever before giving Alastair the satisfaction of breaking me. He ripped me to pieces day in and day out. You both know what that’s like, you’ve both been there. He cut me until there was nothing left to cut and then he started all over. He…” You stop, swallowing hard before continuing. “He told me every day that I was his favorite. That I belonged to him.”

When you say that, both boys clench their fists and their jaws quiver, but you just keep pushing through.

“But it never broke me. Like I said, I had nothing to lose and nothing to gain either way. So, I just didn’t care. And that only made him more determined. Then, on exactly my three hundredth day there, Alastair had informed me that was the longest any soul had gone without breaking. Once he told me that, there was a bright white flash and the next thing I knew, I woke up in my truck. Parked at some random motel. With all of my belongings. I truly don’t know how or why it happened, but I just picked back up where I left off. Hunting. I mean… what choice did I have? I didn’t know anything else. I looked for answers for a while, but never found them. And then… fast forward a couple years and I run into a couple of hunters at a random bar in Missouri and my life is suddenly changed forever.”

They both look up at you.

“And I freaked out when I first saw Dean, but by the time I left the bar with you two that night I had completely forgiven him. In fact, I think I had always forgiven him.” You look into his eyes when you say that. “And that is the truth.”

You take a deep breath, knowing the hardest part is coming next, and you can tell the boys know it, too.

“Then Alastair showed up in that motel room. He tied me to that chair and politely reminded me that I still belonged to him, and he had never given up on me, and that it was time to pick up where we left off. I never wanted you to find us there. I told him I’d go with him, that we didn’t need to involve you, but he knew it would hurt us all so much more if we waited for you to come back. So we did. And you know what happened next.”

The boys don’t say anything, they just nod. You’re relieved they’re letting you get it all out because you’re not sure you’d be able to keep going if they stopped you to say anything.

“When Alastair took me out of the motel room, we went straight to the house you found me in. He told me that it was only half an hour away from here. He wanted me to know how close I was to you, to taste how close I was to salvation, because he was so confident that you wouldn’t find us.” You take a deep, shaky breath and then continue.

“First of all… whatever you’re imagining happened… it-“ You exhale slowly. “It happened. Most of the time I was the way you found me. Hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room like that. Or in a chair. I know you saw what kind of tools he had there and what kind of wounds I had when you found me.”

The boys nod slightly. You can see them trying so hard to keep themselves together, just like you are. Your voice is shaky, but you’re determined to go on. You’re in too deep now to stop.

“And then sometimes… I’d be on the bed.” Sam runs his palm down the length of his face and clears his throat, adjusting in his seat. Trying so hard to keep himself together. Dean doesn’t move, but you can see his jaw quivering and his hands shaking.

“Typically whenever he was satisfied with my torture for the day, he’d drag me to the bed and uh…” You look down at your marred wrists. Dean runs his hand over his mouth and chin and leans back, looking up and the ceiling with enraged eyes. Sam just stares at the wounds on your wrists and swallows hard.

“Some of the time it would just be him. Sometimes… he would invite other demons. It didn’t matter how hard I fought, I couldn’t stop them. Once I got weaker, they wouldn’t even tie me up. They would hold me down. Grab me by the throat.” You reach up and touch the bruises littering your neck.

Dean pounds the table lightly with his fist and you can see his eyes becoming glassy. When you look over at Sam, you notice his are the same way.

“I never…” Your voice shakes and you look down. “I NEVER stopped fighting.” You grit out.

You look up at them as tears drop down your face and you see the tears in their eyes as well.

“Like I said… whatever you’ve imagined… it… happened.” You close your eyes and more tears fall.

You take a deep breath and clear your throat.

“That wasn’t the first time those things have happened to me. The torture, the… other stuff. But… it was the worst. In Hell, it wasn’t real. Sure, it felt real but it wasn’t. I was dead. My life was pointless. So, I didn’t care. And when I was a child, I expected to die there in that house and I had absolutely nothing in my life so I had nothing to live for. Or to lose. But…” your voice cracks and you look up to see a tear falling down Dean’s cheek.

“But… this time, I had a life. I had something to lose. Someone to lose. Two of them.” You look between them both.

“And he knew that. I had finally felt connection and happiness and my life had purpose for the first time… because of you two. And slowly, every single day, he used that against me and tried to strip me of that purpose. Every day that you didn’t show up, he told me it was because you weren’t looking. Because you didn’t care. And even though, deep down, I knew that wasn’t true… “ You look at them, and see the tears still brimming in their eyes.

You swallow hard. “Every day got harder. I was already so messed up… the more he messed me up every day, the more certain I was that I was too far gone to be saved. To be worth it. And then, that last day… I was…” Your voice hitches in your throat and another tear falls.

“So close. To giving in. Completely.” They both look down.

“But then you two showed up.”

They look back up at you.

“And you stopped me from doing that. Saved me. It is NOT your fault that he came after me. That had nothing to do with you. And you did everything you could to find me. I know that, and so do you. And you found me. And I’m here. I’m here, right now, because of the two of you. So, stop feeling guilty. Do you understand me?” They clear their throats and each nod at you.

“Good. Nothing is ever going to change what happened. And I can’t promise that those memories won’t still haunt me for the rest of my life. But I am not going to break. I am NOT weak. And I do not want any more fucking pity. You got that?” They nod again.

You take another deep breath. As you’re saying these things, you’re realizing you’re saying them to yourself just as much as you’re saying them to the boys. And the more you say, the more you realize it’s actually helping. As much as these two are helping you to get better, you realize now that you’re the only one who can heal yourself.

And god damn it, you’re doing it.

“I have been… so ashamed. Ashamed of everything that’s happened to me, everything that I’ve done. I’ve believed that I’ve been damaged past the point of no return for a very long time. And that’s why I couldn’t talk about it.”

Dean reaches his hand out quickly and grabs yours.

“You…” He clears his throat, his voice still shaking slightly, “you have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing.”

Sam nods. “Just so you know, there was never a second that we thought you were weak. You’re so strong that it scares us sometimes.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “Good.”

Dean leans forward and smirks.

“And you are just the right amount of damaged to be a perfect fit with us, Sweetheart.”

You look between the two of them, and you realize how much weight has been lifted from your chest after this conversation.

“Okay.” You sigh. “Any other questions?”

“Yes.” Dean says. He swallows hard. “How many were there?”

You know what he means right away. How many demons. How can we find them. How can we kill them.

“I don’t know.” You croak. “Over the whole time, at least twenty.”

Both boys tense up again, and you see Deans eyes darken.

“I… never heard names. I might remember what they looked like, but who knows if they’re still riding the same meat suits. Trust me,” You look between the two of them, rage in your eyes, “I want fucking revenge. But… I don’t think we’re gonna get it.”

“Oh,” Dean leans forward, his voice dark and husky, “We’re gonna get revenge. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not for a year. But, Sweetheart,” He looks deep into your eyes, “We’re going to get it. Some way. Somehow. Someday.”

You look into his eyes and you feel the power of the promise he’s making you. You know it will be nearly impossible. But if you’ve learned anything about these boys, it’s that nearly impossible is what they do.

“Thank you.” You whisper, nodding at him. He simply nods back.

You clear your throat, lean back, and pick up your glass of wine. “Okay. We good? We done with that? Moving on?”

Sam chuckles, “Yeah, Y/N.” He picks up his own glass. “We’re good if you’re good.”

Dean smiles too, picks his glass up, and states, “To being just the right amount of damaged.” You grin at that, and Dean winks at you.

You each sip your drinks when you once again notice Dean eyeing you funny, deep in thought.

“What is it?” You ask him.

He looks at you, then Sam, then back to you.

“I have to tell you something. Tell you both something. I’ve been waitin’ for you to heal and I didn’t want to burden you. But after havin’ this talk, I realize the time is right to tell you. You deserve to know.”

“What is it, Dean?” You ask, nervous.

“Alastair… just before he died. He, uh, he said somethin’ about you being the key to everything. That you needed to be broken, and someone had to break you. I-I don’t know what he meant. And it coulda just been bullshit. But, you deserve to know.”

You just sit in silence as you take in what Dean said.

“Hey,” He leans forward, placing his hand on yours, “Whatever it is, whatever he meant, we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

Sam joins in, “Absolutely. If there’s anything more to it, we’ll find out. But no matter what, you’re home. And that’s all that matters. Because the three of us, we can handle anything together.”

As scary as it is to think this might not truly be over, you know they’re right. You don’t know what Alastair might have meant, but right now, you don’t want to know. You’re finally back here with your boys and you’re not going to let that son of a bitch have another moment of your energy right now.

You spend the next couple hours just hanging out, exactly like you used to. You tell stories of your craziest hunts, and the craziest people you’ve come across in your line of work. They tell you funny stories about Cass. You even talk about your dad for a bit, and they talk about theirs. Eventually, you realize that although talking about everything and opening up did make you feel better, it also took a lot out of you. You finish your glass of wine and stand up.

“Okay, boys, I’m gonna head back to bed.” You say. “Thanks for dinner. And everything else.” You smile at them, and they smile back.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Sam says. Dean doesn’t say anything, he just watches you. Come to think of it, he hasn’t said much in a while. It was mostly you and Sam talking, and him just watching you. You nod at them one more time and make your way to your room. You step inside, close the door behind you, and take a deep breath.

Then, you hear a knock at your door. You turn around and open it slowly, to see Dean standing there, looking nervous.

“Everything okay?” You ask.

“Can I come in?” His voice is low, gravelly, and a little shaky.

You back up and let him in, and he closes the door behind him. He just stares down at the floor for a few seconds, looking like he’s searching for the right words.

“Dean?” You whisper. He snaps out of his trance and looks up at you.

“I’m sorry.” He utters.

You shake your head, “No, Dean, what did I say out there? No more guilt. I’m here, that’s all that matt-"

“No,” He says, “Not for that. For the way I treated you.”

You freeze, studying his face, realizing what he means.

He goes on, “The things that I said to you…” He clenches his jaw and breathes out of his nose before continuing.

“You spent that whole time… that whole time with him thinkin’ that that was how I felt. And the bastard was tellin’ you that you didn’t matter, that we weren’t lookin’ for you, and it was MY words that probably made you believe that.”

Your heart seizes listening to his words.

“Dean, please, we don’t have to do this.”

“Yes,” His eyes bore into you. “We do.”

You don’t say anything else, you just look down at your feet and wait for him to continue. You heart is racing, so afraid to revisit those things that he said to you.

“But… I didn’t mean any of it.” He whispers. Your eyes instantly snap back up to his, and he’s looking at you in desperation.

“You… us… that wasn’t a mistake. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced in this God forsaken life. And it scared the Hell out of me. I thought that I knew what it felt like to let someone in, to let my walls down. But… what I had with you… what I FELT with you… it changed everything I thought I knew.”

Your mouth goes dry and your heart beats even faster as you study his face and see the honesty in his eyes with each word.

“I panicked. The way you made me feel, it terrified me so much that I told myself I was protecting both of us by shutting it down. By trying to pretend I wasn’t feeling what I was. And I was a hypocritical asshole, because just when you finally broke your walls down for me, I put mine back up. And then I let you think it was your fault. But it was mine.”

He takes a step forward and your stomach flips.

“While you were gone, I hated myself every single day for letting you believe that what we had didn’t mean anything. For letting you believe that you didn’t mean anything. When really… you mean everything to me, Y/N.”

You don’t respond. You open your mouth but nothing comes out and you just stare back at him.

“And I should have told you this from that first night we spent together. Because I knew it then. Hell, I think maybe I’ve known it since before then. I think I always have.” His voice breaks and he looks down again.

He swallows hard, takes a deep breath, and looks back up at you. The way his bright green eyes connect with yours instantly makes your heart feel like it’s going to burst.

“I love you, Y/N.”

His words hit you like a lightning bolt to the chest and for a second, you forget how to breathe. When you don’t answer, you see the panic cross his features and he starts talking again.

“I know I have no right to tell you that now, after everything I said. I fucked it up and I know that. And I should have told you from the second you got back but… I didn’t know how.”

“Dean.” You whisper, but he doesn’t stop.

“And if you wanna kick me out of your room right now, and tell me to leave you alone forever, I won’t blame you, but I just needed you to know-"

“Dean!” You exclaim, placing a hand on the side of his face, just below his ear, to grab his attention. He stops talking and looks at you.

You study his face once more and a smile slowly forms on your lips.

“I love you, too.”

His stares at you in complete surprise. He studies your face, and when he looks back into your eyes, his own eyes light up as he realizes that you mean what you’re telling him.

He’s nearly tearing up as he lets out a joyful chuckle.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your grin widens and you rub his cheek with your thumb.

“Yeah?” He asks, laughing out again in wonder as he takes your face in both of his hands.

“I love you, Dean.” You state happily.

“God damn,” He shakes his head in amazement, “I love you too, Sweetheart.”

He pulls your face into his and kisses you so deeply and passionately that the entire world fades away.

He gently lifts you and carries you over to your bed, kissing you the whole time, and places you down on your back and kneels over you. Suddenly, he stops kissing you and pulls back, studying your face again as if he’s making sure this is real.

You smile up at him softly before pulling him back down to kiss him again. Your hands travel slowly from the base of his neck, down his sides over top of his t-shirt to his hips. Then, you bring your hands under his t-shirt and very gently trail them back up his sides, this time feeling the heat from his bare skin all the way up. He inhales sharply at the tenderness of your touch, all the while still kissing you gently and passionately.

When your hands trail all the way up under his shirt to his chest, you gently tug on it and he breaks the kiss to help you pull it off over his head and toss it to the side. Your eyes scan his chest and arms, and you bite your lip as you run your hands over the muscles in his shoulders and upper arms. He just stares down at you, his eyes full of adoration and lust, his hands resting gently on your legs, which straddle his as he kneels between them.

You sense his hesitation, knowing he doesn’t want to do anything that you’re not ready for, anything that will hurt you in any way. You reach for his hands, placing yours on top of his and guiding them slowly up your thighs, and up your sides under your t-shirt. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply as he feels your warm, soft skin under his palms.

He moves his hands to your breasts and you close your eyes and lick your lips as his fingers brush over top of your bra. He groans quietly at your reaction to his touch and he lifts your t-shirt off over your head. You stare at each other, looking each other up and down, both of you silently acknowledging that you thought you would never have this experience together again.

His hands are once again on your thighs as he takes in the sight of you. Once again, you bring your hands down to grab his and bring them back up to touch you, this time placing them directly back on to your breasts. You arch your back up into his touch and he gently runs his thumbs over the top of your bra before reaching behind you with one hand and instantly unclasping the bra, pulling it off of you slowly. He takes another sharp inhale as he looks down at your breasts.

Slowly, he takes them in his hands and caresses them gently, his thumbs brushing over your nipples and sending sparks straight to your core. You close your eyes and moan quietly at the sensation, and you hear him utter, “Fuck,” under his breath as he watches you. He leans down and kisses you again before bringing his mouth down to your jawline, and then to your neck.

He kisses your neck gently and for a very brief second, with his mouth on your neck and your eyes still closed, your body tenses up just a bit. He instantly stops and pulls both his mouth and hands away, his eyes studying your face to make sure you’re okay, that he hasn’t taken it too far and ruined everything.

You take deep breath and look back into his eyes.

“I’m okay, Dean. It’s okay.” You reach out to his hands once more, this time pulling him down so that his body is once again leaning over yours. You let go of his left hand, allowing him to prop himself up over top of you with his left forearm. You continue holding on to his right hand, though. Slowly, you guide it back to the side of your face, your Y/E/C eyes still connecting with his bright green.

“It’s okay.” You repeat in a whisper, as you guide his hand down the side of your neck and back to your breast. He pulls his lower lip in between his teeth as he watches you guide his hand from one breast to the other.

“I want this.” You mutter breathlessly as you bring his hand to the middle of your chest and allow him to feel your heartbeat for moment. You look deeply into each other’s eyes as you very slowly begin to pull his hand down from your chest and along your stomach. His eyes go wide for a brief second as you continue to pull his hand down lower, but they’re quickly filled with overwhelming lust when you bring his fingertips to the top of your jeans.

“I want you, Dean.” You breathe out.

“Y/N…” He growls under his breath when he hears you say his name. With that, you push hand further and he unbuttons and unzips your jeans in one swift motion.

Other than that, he’s still completely relinquishing control to you, allowing you to control his hand. You push it down past the waistband of your jeans and your panties and then switch your grasp on him, now wrapping both hands around his wrist and pushing his hand to touch your pussy.

He groans and ruts his hips into you when he feels how wet you are, and you respond by grinding yourself on his hand. He licks his lips, looks you up and down with lust-blown pupils, and very slowly pushes his index finger inside of you. You gasp out in pure pleasure, instantly pushing yourself down on him while pulling his wrist to push his finger as far inside you as possible.

“God…” He groans out, hardly able to keep himself composed with how much this is turning him on. He slides his middle finger into you as well, and you bite your bottom lip as you moan and squeeze your eyes shut. You’re still holding tightly to his wrist, pulling his fingers deep inside you.

“I want you.” You whisper again before opening your eyes and making contact with his.

“I need you.” This time, your voice comes out in a desperate whine and with that, his eyes roll back into his head as he begins to pump his fingers in and out of you slowly.

You squeeze your eyes shut again, release your grip on his wrist, and bring your hands down on either side of you to grab handfuls of the sheet beneath you. He shifts his position slightly, so that he’s now on the right side of you, still holding himself up with his left forearm, his face hardly an inch from yours, his lips slightly parted, his long lashes flicking up and down as he takes in the pleasure on your face, all the while continuing to pump his fingers in and out of you.

“Dean…” You moan, your breathing becoming ragged, as you open your eyes to look into his, and you see him looking down at you with aroused amazement. He begins to curl his fingers inside of you and you moan again as you bring your right hand up to hold the side of his face and pull him in for a kiss. He kisses you hard as he picks up his pace, curling his fingers over and over again right into your sweet spot. You moan desperately into the kiss, which leads him to growl out before pulling his lips away from yours and locking his gaze with yours.

“I wanna watch that beautiful face when you cum.” He huffs just as he picks up his pace again. 

With that, the orgasm that had been building in you suddenly explodes and you moan out once again, your nails dig into the nape of his neck, and your whole body trembles as you cum on Dean’s fingers. He watches you in lustful awe as you ride out your orgasm and grind against his hand until the last waves of pleasure subside.

You take a few deep breaths before looking at him and smiling. He smiles down at you as he pulls his hand from your jeans, and before he has a chance to say anything, you’re flipping him onto his back and straddling him. He looks up at you in surprise briefly, but a smile quickly creeps back across his face. You feel his hard dick through his jeans underneath you, and that causes you to instantly grind your hips down against it.

He throws his head back, a growl coming from deep within his throat as his hands squeeze your thighs. You bring your own hands up to grab the headboard, and continue grinding on him as your breasts bounce just above his face. He opens his eyes to see them and another moan escapes his lips before he opens his mouth to begin sucking on your right nipple. This elicits another moan from you and you grind on him for only a few more seconds before you can’t take it anymore and you reach down to take off your jeans.

Dean sees what you’re doing and instantly reaches down to help you pull your jeans and panties off of you. Once you’re completely naked, you push his chest until he’s lying back down and you’re kneeling between his legs. You look up at him seductively as you slowly begin to unbutton his jeans and he bucks his hips up in arousal at the sight. You pull his jeans and boxers off of him completely and toss them to the side. You inhale sharply at the sight of his hard cock in front of you. 

“Mmmm, I missed you Dean Winchester.” You say as you look from his cock up to his eyes and lick your lips. He chuckles before licking his own lips and responding in a husky whisper.

“Fuck, I missed you too, Sweetheart.” You crawl slowly up the bed, still straddling him, until your throbbing pussy is hovering just above his cock. He watches your every move in aroused anticipation as his calloused hands run up and down your thighs. You reach for them, grabbing his wrists and pinning them gently on either side of his head. He continues to look up at you in silent awe, admiring every inch of your body and face and allowing you to completely take control.

Very slowly, you position yourself over the tip of his cock and you feel it twitch as soon as your pussy brushes over it. He grunts with need, and with that you slowly lower yourself onto him until you’re sitting on his lap and his cock is filling you completely. You both gasp in pleasure, the spark of this sensation shooting through each nerve in your bodies.

You continue pinning his wrists as you slowly lift yourself off of him, almost completely, before lowering yourself back down. He moans out and pulls against your hold on his wrists, feeling a sudden, desperate need to touch you as you ride him. You maintain your hold on him though, as you once again lift yourself up and bring yourself back down, causing him to groan out once again in desperation.

“Please, Sweetheart.” He whines, and the sound of his whine has you throbbing even more. You pick up your pace, getting yourself into a steady rhythm of riding him. Every time you feel the tip of his cock filling you up when you come back down, you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, and you know he can already feel it too. You continue pinning him as you lean down, your lips brushing against his, and you both moan into each other’s mouths as you once again pick up your pace, now quickly riding his cock and grinding your hips against him.

Your foreheads are pressed against each other as you switch on and off from exchanging desperate kisses and moaning, your lips brushing up and down against each other as you bounce up and down on top of him. He whines out again, once again pulling against your hold on his wrists.

And this time you finally let him go.

As soon as you do, he instantly wraps his arms around your waist, sits himself up slightly against the headboard, and uses that leverage to slam his hips up into you at the exact same pace with which you’re riding him. You cry out, the pleasure causing you to lose your breath for a second. He brings you back to him, though, keeping one arm wrapped around your waist but bringing the other to the side of your face, steadying you and angling your face down to make eye contact with him. The sight of him nearly has you cumming instantly.

His furrowed brows, his piercing, lust-filled green gaze, his chest glistening from the sheen of sweat now coating the both of you, his slightly parted lips, his tongue dipping in and out of them as he focuses on keeping his pace, and the muscles in his arms, chest, and stomach all moving in perfect rhythm as he pounds in and out of you. It’s all enough to nearly make you lose control.

With what little control you do still have, you double down on keeping the pace right there with him. You place one palm firmly on his chest to steady yourself, and the other on the side of his face, holding his just the way he’s holding yours, the two of you keeping your gazes locked on each other.

You’re both panting hard in between moans, your paces perfectly matched as he pumps himself up into you and you roll your hips down onto him over and over again. Without a word, you both pick up your paces once more at the same time, and sparks fly through the both of you in that second.

His eyes go wide and he moans out in surprise at the way the pleasure hits him, and you bring the hand that was on his chest up to the other side of his face, holding onto his face as your orgasm hits you the same time his hits him. You look into each other’s eyes, gasping breathlessly as you share one incredible orgasm. You continue grinding on him, gradually slowing down your pace, and he does the same beneath you until you’ve both ridden out the orgasm completely.

You remain on top of him, your foreheads pressed together, both of you breathing heavily and trying to catch your breath. Finally, you pull your head back and look into his eyes again, and he looks at you in what looks like pure wonder.

“I love you, Y/N.” He breathes, and your heart skips a beat. You will never get tired of hearing that.

“I could say the same to you, Winchester.” You hum with a grin.

He chuckles and then helps you climb off of him and you both crawl directly under the blanket. He wraps his arms around you and you look up at him, and you share one last kiss before you bury your face into his chest and you drift off into a peaceful sleep.

He looks down at you and for a moment, he’s waiting to wake up, certain that this can’t be real. But it is. Here you are, in his arms, choosing him.

After all of the mistakes he’s made in his life, and all of the mistakes he’s made with you, you still choose him.

He can’t believe that you – the strongest, most badass, most beautiful person he’s ever met – are lying here in his arms right now. And he’s decided right here and now that this time, he’s not going to mess it up. This time, he’s going to hold onto you with everything he has.

He’s still afraid of the future. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen with the Mark, with Metatron, with Heaven or Hell, or any of it. But this time, he isn’t afraid of his future with you. He knows now that whatever is coming, you’re going to face it together. You, him, and Sammy.

And for the first time in a long time, he likes his odds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised there would be more smut.
> 
> Hope it didn't disappoint.
> 
> And I'd be lying if I said there won't be even more of it. It's very fun to write.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that the reader is finally healing, it's time for her and the boys to get back to what they do best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize the way I ended the last chapter made it seem like maybe that was the end of this.
> 
> My bad.
> 
> It's definitely not. I have so much more in store for these guys and I hope you'll continue this journey with me.
> 
> By the way.... there's more smut in this chapter. I can't help myself.
> 
> Enjoy!

The next morning, you wake up still in Dean’s arms. You check the clock. 8:00 am. You slept through night. The first night, since you’ve been back, that you slept through the night without waking up screaming from the nightmares.

Without even having any nightmares.

You look up at Dean, your eyes studying every inch of his sleeping face.

You never thought you’d be able to let anyone in like this. You never thought you’d even come close. You look at him, and you feel the kind of safety that you’ve been missing out on your entire life. It hasn’t been easy, and you know that it’s not going to be. But it doesn’t matter. Because despite your better judgement, and everything you expected for your life, you love this man.

You run your hand up Dean’s bare chest and he hums in pleasure, slowly cracking his eyes open and looking down at you with a sleepy grin.

“Hey there, Sweetheart.” He says, his voice still gravelly from sleep.

“Good morning.” You reply.

He puts his hand on the side of your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek, and kisses you softly and deeply. When he pulls his face away, his green eyes study your face carefully and seriously for a few seconds.

“You’re not gonna run away again, are you?” You whisper with a partial smirk.

He grins at you. “Never again.”

You grin back. “Good.”

He sits up slightly and asks, “What do you want to do today, Sweetheart?”

You think seriously for a few seconds before another massive grin crosses your face and you look up at him with excitement. He looks back at you with questioning eyes before you raise your eyebrows and declare,

“I wanna hunt.”

He sighs. “Of course you do.”

You sit up, holding your sheets over your still nude body. “Dean, I’m ready.” You reason. “I need this.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not a good idea-"

You narrow your eyes at him and he stops speaking abruptly.

You lean towards him slightly and state, “I think we established last night, I am not weak. I am not fragile. And no one is going to treat me like I am. I want to hunt. I need to hunt.”

You lean even closer until your lips are brushing against his and whisper, “So… we’re gonna hunt.”

You kiss him and then pull away with a smirk before getting up to put some clothes on.

He watches you in intoxicated silence, his eyes simply studying you from head to toe. Once you’ve pulled on a t-shirt and jeans, you turn to look at him, eyebrows raised.

“Well?”

“Well,” He inhales deeply and licks his lips, “anything you say.”

“Damn right,” You say with a wink. “Let’s go tell Sam.”

Dean gets dressed as well and the two of you head to the kitchen together, where you find Sam already drinking his coffee and scrolling on his laptop. You both walk in quietly, pouring yourselves coffee before turning to walk toward the table. When you do, you find Sam smirking up at the two of you.

“What?” You ask, a knowing smirk of your own already appearing on your face.

“Nothing, nothing.” Sam chuckles as he takes a sip of his coffee.

You and Dean sit down across from him just as he mumbles into his mug, “I’m gonna need to get a sound proof room or something.”

Dean chokes on his coffee and you just grin at Sam.

“Sorry, Sam.” You coo.

“No, uh, no… don’t be sorry.” He says. “Everything good?” He looks between the two of you.

You and Dean look at each other before looking back at Sam.

“Yeah Sammy… everything’s great.” Dean drawls.

Sam grins at the two of you, sips his coffee again, and whispers, “Finally.”

You laugh before blurting out, “Oh! And we’re going on a hunt.”

Sam raises his eyebrows and looks at Dean before looking back at you. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” You say, “So, if you’ve got any leads…”

He smiles, looks down at his laptop, then spins it around for you and Dean to see. On it, there’s an article about a number of suspicious animal attacks one state over in Colorado.

Your grin grows and your eyes light up as they scan the article before you look up at Sam and utter, “Perfect. Atta boy, Sammy.”

With that, you stand up and grab your coffee.

“I’m gonna go get ready.” You smile at both of them before making your way out of the room.

Dean watches you, mesmerized, as you walk out, licking his lips at the sway of your hips. He turns to see Sam watching him with a smile.

“What?” Dean asks sheepishly.

Sam grins even wider before raising his eyebrows and taunting his brother.

“Someone’s in looooooove.”

Dean’s cheeks flush slightly, but a large grins breaks out on his face. He leans back, sighs deeply, and lets it out slow. He looks at his brother earnestly.

“You’re god damn right I am.” He smirks, sips his coffee, then stands up and slaps his brother proudly on the shoulder before swaggering out of the room.

An hour later, you and the boys are getting into the Impala and are on the way to Colorado.

Sam offered to sit in the back so that you could sit in the front next to Dean, but you refused. You love the back seat of this beautiful, old car. The back seat is your space. Hell, you did almost die there. And you’ll be damned to let anyone have it but you.

Being outside, in the fresh air, for the first time in so long is an incredible feeling. You roll the window down, close your eyes, and let the sunlight and the cool air wash over your face. You open your eyes and glance at your boys in the front seat. They’re arguing over the volume of the radio and when to stop for gas, and all you can think about is how much you adore them. How happy you are to be right here, with them.

Dean stops messing with Sam when he notices you smiling as you watch them. His eyes connect with yours through the rear view mirror. The way the sunlight reflects off the mirror and into those green irises makes you lose your breath. He winks at you before looking back the road. You continue to smile at him and you realize how excited you are for this hunt.

You can’t wait to kill some monsters with these boys at your side.

After a few hours, you’re arriving at your motel.

You all decide to get some dinner and hang out at the bar you passed on your way into town. It’s practically become your ritual before a hunt.

Sam parks the car and pays for the room while you and Dean bring the bags into the room. You head into the bathroom, change into a low cut, black v neck shirt, and dark jeans, and even throw on some lipstick. When you exit the bathroom and Dean turns to look at you, he stops dead in his tracks.

He looks you up and down slowly and swallows hard.

“Jesus…” He breathes.

You smirk at him. “What?”

He strides up to you and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him.

“Oh, you know what. You are the…” He exhales sharply and grins. “Sexiest woman I have ever seen.”

He tangles his other hand in your hair and pulls you in for a deep kiss. You kiss him back, feeling your heart flutter as you do.

Just then, the door opens and Sam walks in.

“You guys ready to go, or-"

You and Dean pull away from your kiss, but not before Sam realizes what’s going on.

“Oh god.” He mumbles. “Am I gonna have to start getting my own room now?”

You and Dean just look at each other and laugh.

“No, Sam. Don’t worry.” You answer, as you head for the door. You turn to face the boys, shrug, and utter, “We’ll just fuck after you fall asleep.”

Then, you smirk and walk out the door.

They both just stand there, slack-jawed for a few seconds.

Then, Dean turns to his brother with a beaming smile.

“That,” He breathes out a chuckle and points at the door, “Is MY girl.”

Sam just shakes his head, laughs, and follows his brother out the door.

When you walk into the restaurant, all three of you are taken aback. It’s a rowdy crowd, everyone seems drunk, and the waitresses are wearing very little and are hanging and dancing all over the customers, and a few of them are even dancing on the bar.

Dean would manage to accidentally pick the bar that’s one step removed from a strip club.

You laugh out, “What is this, Coyote Ugly?”

The boys can’t help but grin.

“Guess so.” Sam chuckles.

“Well, what the hell.” You state with a shrug and a grin. “If we’re here, we might as well commit.” And with that, you stride right up to the bar and grab three stools right underneath where the girls are dancing.

Sam and Dean exchange shocked glances. You continue to surprise them. They follow right behind you and take their seats.

You’re hardly there for a minute before a few of the girls notice Sam and Dean and dance their way over to where you’re all seated. There’s a blonde dancing right above Dean, and a brunette dancing just above Sam. They’re looking down suggestively, writhing their bodies specifically for the boys.

Dean looks over at you nervously, but you’re just watching the women with a grin, so he relaxes a little. You have to admit, it’s kind of adorable that he’s afraid to even look at these women for fear of upsetting you.

You lean over to him and whisper in his ear.

“Relax, handsome. I’m not the jealous type.” You pull away, shoot him a wink, and lean forward to the older female bartender behind the counter, ordering a round for yourself and the boys. The girls continue dancing above Sam and Dean for a little while longer, before eventually hopping off the bar and making their way around the room, earning tips from every table full of men they approach.

You and the boys have a few drinks and some food and are enjoying yourselves, when you notice a the girls from earlier eyeing the boys once again as the crowd in the bar begins to thin out.

You head to the bathroom, and when you walk out you notice that both women are now surrounding Sam and Dean. The blonde, wearing only Daisy Duke shorts and a tight red cutoff tank top, is hanging on Dean. The brunette is practically sitting in Sam’s lap, wearing a similar outfit to the blonde.

They both have bottles of liquor in their hands and they’re pouring shots for themselves and the boys. You can see the boys are trying to laugh it off without being rude, but they are clearly uncomfortable. Still, you just can’t help but laugh. You’re not easily intimidated. Not by monsters, or by women who are just trying to make a little money.

You make your way over to them just as the girls are trying to convince Sam and Dean to take their shots.

“Don’t I get one too?” You ask with a smirk.

The girls do not look happy to see you, as if they had been waiting the whole night for you to get out of their way so that they could make their move on the Winchesters. The blonde that’s hanging all over Dean reluctantly hands you a shot glass.

“Thanks.” You say with a wink before knocking back the shot and slamming the glass back down onto the table.

You’re trying to play along, give these women the benefit of the doubt, knowing they’re just trying to do their job and earn some tips. But, the more this girl is rubbing Dean’s arms and chest, leaning all over him as you stand right there, the more annoyed you feel yourself becoming.

Dean continues to shrug himself out of her grip, laughing nervously and looking at you. Sam’s doesn’t seem to necessarily mind having a beautiful woman in his lap, but he’s also clearly uncomfortable at how much these girls are pushing.

Dean realizes his gentle shrugging isn’t enough to get this girl to stop, so he quickly stands and takes a step so that he’s standing next to you.

“Uh,” He clears his throat, “ladies. Look, you are, uh, very, uh… attractive.” He glances at you and sees you watching him with your eyebrows raised, clearly amused by his awkwardness.

“But, uh… I’m really not interested.” He lifts his hand in surrender and clicks his tongue. “Sorry.”

Instead of listening, the blonde quickly reaches out to him and pulls him back towards her. This takes him by surprise and catches him off balance, and he stumbles into her arms.

The girls are giggling and the blonde says, “C’mon, baby. We’re having a good time.”

These women are acting as if you’re not even here.

“He said he’s not interested.” You state.

They both look at you in annoyance. The blonde looks from you to Dean.

“Is this why you don’t wanna play with us, baby? You like her better?” She gestures to you with a grimace.

Dean pulls away from her again and stands next to you. He looks you up and down before turning back to her and stating confidently, “You’re damn right.”

She looks you up and down, then looks back to Dean.

“Well, you are WAY out of her league, baby.” She eyes him up and down seductively. “I can see why she would be jealous when girls like us show you some attention.” She looks back to you, her expression cocky.

You exhale sharply as you chuckle and then lick your lips.

You lean towards her, narrow your eyes and whisper, “In order for me to be jealous, baby, there’d have to be some type of competition.”

Sam and Dean’s eyes both go wide and Dean just breathes out an “Oof” while Sam can’t help but to chuckle. At that, the girl on his lap jumps up, offended.

The blonde takes a step toward you and sneers, “Bitch.”

You look at the boys and smirk. “Oh wow, are you sure you guys aren’t interested? We’ve got a real intellectual over here.”

Without warning, she leans forward and slaps you across the face.

Both Sam and Dean are instantly panicked, now afraid for this girl’s life.

Your head snaps to the side. You grab your cheek, turn to look at her again, and smile. The boys know that smile, and quite frankly it scares the shit out of them.

You begin to take a step towards her, and Sam jumps up from his seat to stand between you and her and Dean just yells, “OH-Kay,” before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you back. He spins you around to focus your eyes on him and calm you down.

“Hey, hey, not worth it, okay?” He studies your face carefully. “Okay?”

You look into his bright green eyes and as always, they instantly calm you down.

“Okay.” You breathe.

“Okay.” He smiles at you.

Behind you both, the older bartender is tossing the girls out the backdoor of the bar.

“Come back in tomorrow when you’re ready to work and not to start fights!” She shouts behind them.

You and Dean walk back up to Sam at the bar. Sam looks at your face carefully. “You okay?” He asks.

You nod at him. “Fine, Sammy.”

The older woman comes up to you.

“Sorry about that, darlin’. Those girls are great for my business, but sometimes they get a little too rowdy.”

You raise an eyebrow at her. “Yeah, a little.”

“Let me get you all a round. As an apology.” She offers.

She pours double shots of whiskey for each of you and you gulp them down quickly. The three of you thank her, pay your tab, and head for the door.

“I wasn’t gonna kill her.” You grumble, and the boys just laugh as you all head to the car.

Once you get back to the motel room, Sam walks into the bathroom and Dean turns to you with a smug smirk.

“What?” You ask.

“Not the jealous type, huh?” He raises his eyebrows.

You narrow your eyes at him but a smile spreads across your face.

“I guess you’re the exception,” You lick your lips and lean toward him, “baby.”

He grunts out an “Mmmm” and pulls you in for a kiss.

Without warning, he spins you around and pins you against the wall roughly. You gasp out in pleasant surprise but he stops and pulls away suddenly.

“Shit. Sorry.” He mumbles.

You look at him, confused. “What, why?” You ask.

“I… I gotta be careful. Y’know, getting’ rough with you. Pinning you down. After everything…” He trails off, but you already know what he’s saying. After everything that happened to you. He doesn’t want to do anything to bring back painful memories.

You sigh and grab his face in your hands.

“Dean, we talked about this. I’m not gonna break, okay? And I’m getting better, every day. I am not going to let what happened then ruin what we have now. And I do not want you holding back with me.”

You continue to hold his face, making sure your words sink in. You can tell they have when relaxes slightly and nods, so you begin to slowly run your hands down the side of his face, then to his neck, then to his chest.

You look down at your hands on his chest and whisper, “I love that you’re so thoughtful. So considerate. But sometimes…” You look back up at him seductively and stare deeply into his eyes. “I want you to take control.”

He licks his lips slightly as he looks down at you, entranced. You bring your hand slowly around to his back as you go on, “I want you to pin me down.”

He continues watching you, listening to you silently as he uses his tongue to pull his bottom lip in between his teeth. You lean closer to him, your lips brushing his, and dig your nails into his back as you very quietly whisper, “And I want it rough.”

A very subtle growl sounds in his throat and just then, you both hear the bathroom door opening. You grin at him, kiss his stunned lips quickly, then walk over to the bed just as Sam exits the bathroom.

Dean just stands there, aroused and awestruck for a few long seconds before finally clearing his throat and pulling himself back to reality.

Eventually, you see him relax again as the three of you get ready for bed.

Early the next morning, you all awake to discover there’s yet another crime scene in this string of what are being called “mysterious animal attacks”.

You all decide to head to the newest crime scene. The boys are outside starting the car when you come out of the room in your heels, your pencil skirt, and a figure-hugging white button up blouse. You see Dean watching you as you stride up to the car and get in the back seat.

He doesn’t pull out right away, but instead adjusts the rear view mirror to get a better look at your entire body. You see his eyes rake up and down your long legs in your skirt before landing back on your face. You grin at him mischievously as he backs the Impala out and you all head to the scene.

At the scene there are two victims, both middle-aged men with bite marks all over them, especially on the sides of their necks. Looking at the bodies, the bites look similar to a vampire’s and it looks as though they’ve been drained of blood.

You learn from the detectives at the scene that these are the fifth and sixth men to be found like this in the past month.

“Something look a little off about those bite marks to you guys?” Sam asks you and Dean as the three of you stand over the bodies.

“Yeah,” You answer, “Maybe not just a simple vamp case.”

Dean’s not paying attention to you or Sam, he’s just staring at you, daydreaming while looking at you up and down.

“Dean?” You ask, trying to pull him back to reality.

He snaps out of his daze and looks at you and Sam. He clears his throat.

“Uh… no. I mean – yeah, yeah… bites look a little off.”

You and Sam chuckle at him.

“Okay,” Sam says, “guess we should head back to the motel and figure out our next move, huh?”

Dean doesn’t answer.

“Dean!” Sam shouts.

“Uh, yeah!” He says as he’s snapped back again. “Yeah, let’s go.”

As soon as you’re back inside the motel room, Dean’s still watching you, and as he’s taking off his suit jacket he blurts, “We should get breakfast.”

Sam rolls his eyes, “Dean, we were just out. We could’ve gotten it then.”

“Well, I forgot, alright, Sammy? And I need some coffee. Sue me.” He nods to you. “Why don’t you and I go get some grub real quick and Sammy here can start looking into how far back these cases go?”

“Sure.” You answer.

Sam scoffs. “Sure.”

You and Dean get back into the Impala and he looks you up and down once again before driving out of the parking lot.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me, Sweetheart?” He asks you as he flies down the road.

You grin at him as you look at his body up and down in his suit. The way his white button up fits him perfectly and the way the sleeves are rolled up on his forearms makes you bite your lip.

He glances over to you once again, his jaw clenched as he white knuckles the steering wheel.

Suddenly, he whips the car off the road and a few yards into the woods. You jump and look over to him in surprise. His chest is heaving, hands still on the steering wheel.

Suddenly, he looks at you. His eyes once again scan your body, very slowly. He licks his bottom lip and pulls it up in between his teeth. His eyes finally meet yours, and you instantly feel the heat he’s emitting off toward you.

“I mean it.” He utters. “You have…” He looks you up and down once again and shakes his head, “…absolutely no idea what you do to me.”

You lean toward him slightly, lick your lips, and whisper, “Then show me.”

That’s enough to make him snap.

He lunges forward, wrapping an arm around your waist and pinning you on your back on the seat with his body above yours. He rips open your dress shirt to expose your bra, and tangles one hand in your hair. He pants hard as he uses the other hand to roughly shove your skirt up your thighs.

You wrap your legs around him and he grinds his hips down hard onto you. You reach up and rip his dress shirt open, exposing his chest. Then, you wrap one hand around the back of his neck and pull him down into a desperate kiss.

He reaches up further under your skirt and yanks off your panties, pulling them all the way down your legs and off over your heels. At the same time, you unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants, pulling them down quickly.

You’re both panting heavily as you help him line himself up with your entrance, both of you physically unable to go another second without him inside of you. Quickly and desperately, he pushes himself into you and you whine out loudly in instant pleasure.

He huffs out gruffly at the sound of you, and thrusts himself into you as hard as he can.

This time, he’s the one who whines out loudly, which turns you on even more. He thrusts into you again, and you gasp as you tighten the grip of your legs around him. The palm of his right hand is pressed up against the fogging window above you as he uses that to steady himself. He reaches a steady rhythm of pumping into you, the fingers of his left hand digging into your thigh, and looks down at you with lust-blown pupils.

You run your hands up his exposed chest and then around his back under his shirt, and dig your nails into his back with each thrust of his hips. He growls at the feeling of your nails in his back, and it only causes him to pick up his pace once more, slamming his hips against your inner thighs over and over again.

You moan out between pants as he fills you up over and over, and the air inside the Impala becomes more and more heated as it’s filled with the overwhelming intensity of the attraction between the two of you.

You reach your hands around his neck, gripping tightly and using your hold as leverage to move your body to match his pace, which instantly allows him to hit you at the perfect depth over and over again.

It feels as though he’s hitting every last nerve in your body all at once, and you can tell by the way he furrows his brows and grunts out another desperate whine that he feels that too.

You gasp out, and this fades to a moan as you feel yourself heading towards your breaking point. Dean can see this on your face, and just as you’re about to cum he grabs your face and kisses you urgently so that you’re moaning out your orgasm into his lips.

As you clench around him, this brings him to his peak as well and he wraps his hands around the back of your neck and continues kissing you passionately as he rides out his own orgasm, still pumping into you until you’ve both fully ridden it out.

You’re both panting heavily as he pulls away from the kiss and presses his forehead to yours.

“Wow.” You breathe, unable to think straight just yet.

“I can never…” He huffs, “have enough of you.”

You grin up at him and he pulls his forehead away from yours, looking into your eyes earnestly.

“You don’t have a clue how much I love you, Y/N.”

Your heart flutters.

“I could say the same to you, Winchester.”

He grins as he sits back, still breathing heavily, and buttons his pants and shirt back up. He watches with a grin as you as you sit up as well and shimmy your skirt back down over your legs.

“What?” You ask with a smirk.

“I know you hate it, Sweetheart, but that skirt and heel combo is absolutely mind-blowing.” He drawls.

You just roll your eyes and grin at him as you button up your shirt and he pulls the Impala back onto the road.

You and Dean arrive back at the motel shortly after with a bag of fast food breakfast for the three of you. Sam eyes you both suspiciously when you return but he doesn’t make any comments, he just gets right back to the hunt.

“So, looking back on the history of the town it looks like these attacks have been happening on and off for years. The victims were always bitten and drained of blood and they were always men between the ages of 20 and 40.”

Huh. All men. Maybe for once, you’re not the bad guy’s type.

“Hm,” Dean grunts in between chews, “So we agreed not a vamp, right?” He swallows. “What are we thinkin’ instead?”

“Not sure yet.” Sam answers. “We’re gonna need to look more closely at the bites on all the victims. And we’re gonna have to head to the station to see if the Sheriff has any more details about the most recent kills.”

“Ugh,” You groan. You JUST finished changing back into your jeans and t-shirt from your FBI getup.

“Yeah, I’m not doing that. You guys go. I’ll stay here and access the old crime scene photos to try and pin down exactly which monster we’re dealing with.”

Sam just nods in agreement, but Dean gives you a hesitant look.

“…What?” You ask him.

“I just, uh…” He looks down and clears his throat before looking back at you. “I just… y’know, leaving you alone in a motel room…” He trails off.

It dawns on you that you haven’t been out of Dean’s sight since they got you back. And that the last time they did leave you alone in a motel room, they came back to find you ambushed by Alastair. You understand now why Dean is so hesitant.

But he also agreed not to treat you like you’re weak.

“Dean,” You say softly, “I’ll be fine.” You give him that reassuring look that you so often share, and you see him relax slightly.

He sighs and stands up, and Sam stands as well. Sam places a hand on your shoulder, and you can tell by his face that he’s just as worried as Dean is.

“Call us if you need anything.” He says.

You lean forward slightly. “Sammy,” You whisper. “I’m fine.”

He smiles. “I know.” With that, he walks out the door to the car.

Dean walks up to you, still looking nervous. “ I could stay here. Sammy can handle going to the station by himself.”

“Oh right, because little old me definitely can’t handle sitting at the computer and looking at crime scene photos by myself.” You respond sarcastically. “You can’t be glued to my side forever, Dean.”

“I can try.” He says with a grin.

You grab his face firmly in one hand and pull him in for a kiss. Then, you pull back and find him smiling at you.

“I’m a big girl, Winchester. Go.”

He sighs and nods hesitantly. “Yes, ma’am.” He heads to the door and turns, pointing at you.

“I’ll be right back, beautiful.” Then he heads out the door.

You sigh as you sit down at the computer. Of all the after effects of your time being tortured, this is one of the most frustrating. As much as they tell you they don’t think of you as weak, or as a victim, they’re certainly treating you like one.

It doesn’t take you long to gain access to the old crime scene photos. The more closely you look at the photos, the more sure you are that this isn’t a vampire. You zoom in and notice the bite marks have slightly thicker and a few less teeth than a vampire.

And the victims are usually found 2 at a time. Teeth similar to a vampire. Draining the victims of blood. Two victims at a time, meaning two monsters hunting as a pair.

Vetala.

You call the boys up and let them know your theory, just as they’re pulling up to the station.

Once inside the station, the Sheriff tells the boys pretty much everything they already know. Always two victims, always drained of blood, always left out in the middle of nowhere. The Sheriff’s young, and pretty clearly inexperienced.

“We still aren’t sure this is anything more than a bunch of coincidental animal attacks.” He says. “The only lead we got is that the victims were all seen at a local bar in town before they disappeared, so maybe there’s a mountain lion or something like it hunting around there. Or maybe just a really sick individual with sharp teeth. We, uh… we really, really aren’t sure.”

“What bar?” Dean asks.

The Sheriff tells the boys the name of the bar and as soon as he does, they decide they don’t need to talk to him any further, both of them certain he’s too young and naïve to be of any help. They thank him for his time and head back out to the Impala.

Sam speaks up first, “So, the bar where all the victims were last seen.”

“Yup,” Dean answers, “same bar we were at the other night.”

“Always seems to happen that way.” Sam says as he shakes his head, and Dean starts the car.

When they return back to the motel, they change back into their jeans and flannels and join you at the table in the middle of the room. You show them the old photos you found to back up your theory about the monsters being Vetala, and they agree.

“Learn anything from the Sheriff?” You ask.

Sam is about to answer when Dean cuts him off, “Nope. Nothin’.”

Sam eyes Dean suspiciously, but doesn’t say anything.

“Really?” You ask, with an eyebrow raised. “Nothing about the victims, nothing that might give us a lead?”

“Nope.” He answers. “They’re not the brightest down there at the station. Pretty much no help at all.”

“Alright, then.” You say as you stand, “Why don’t we go talk to the victim’s families then? Or we could head back to the crime scene to see if the cops missed anything the first time. Plus, now that we know what kind of monster we’re dealing with we have a better idea of what to look for when we’re out there talking to people.”

Dean just looks up at you, but doesn’t stand. You can sense there’s something he wants to say. And you can sense you won’t like it.

“What is it?” You ask.

“I think you should sit this one out.” He says quietly.

His words take you by surprise. “What?”

“I think it’ll be safer. You’re still hunting, technically. You figured out the monster. Now I think you should hang back while Sam and I find these freaks and gank ‘em.”

“Bullshit.” You spit back. “Absolute bullshit. No.”

“Sweetheart…” He begins.

“I said no.” You state firmly.

He stands up and walks around the table to you. He looks deeply into your eyes and you can see all of his fear and concern. You believe he’s just trying to protect you, but it still pisses you off that he’s talking to you like you’re too weak to handle this.

His eyes plead with yours. “Y/N, please. You’re… you’re still healing.”

Those words cause you to look down at your wrists, the still-healing wounds still clearly visible. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t still in pain. But pain is something that you’re used to. And it sure as Hell does not get in the way of you doing your job.

“I am fine. I need this, Dean. I told you that. Killing these monsters will make me feel better. I’m ready.”

“Mentally you may be ready, but physically… you might not be.”

You scoff.

“Oh yeah?” You take a step closer and narrow your eyes at him. “You certainly thought I was physically ready a few hours ago in the front seat of the Impala.”

Dean blushes slightly and Sam can’t hold back the small chuckle that escapes his lips.

You snap your head in his direction. “What’s so funny, huh?”

Sam’s smile instantly disappears and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes avoiding yours.

“Let’s hear from you, Sammy.” You mutter. “You on his side with this? You think I should ‘sit this one out’, too?” You glare at him.

He sighs as his eyes finally connect with yours. “Look, Y/N…”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You snap.

“Okay,” You sigh deeply. “Listen to me.” You look between the both of them with a heated stare.

“You two seem to have forgotten who the hell I am. So, I’ll remind you. I do not ask permission. I do not do what I’m told. I’m just as good a hunter as the two of you.” Your eyes narrow at them. “Arguably, better.”

The boys swallow hard as you go on.

“You said you’d stop treating me like I’m weak. Because we all know I’m not. We’re either doing this hunt together, or I’ll do the damn thing by myself. But I am not ‘sitting it out’. Got it?”

They both sit in silence for a few seconds before Dean clears his throat and responds.

“Uh, yes. Fine. I’m sorry.” You relax slightly, and he goes on. “But if we’re going to do this, can we at least take our time and make sure we do it right? It’s still early in the day. Why don’t Sammy and I head out for lunch while you finish with those crime scene photos and then we can all decide where we want to take it next.”

You just stare at him, but he places a hand gently on your arm and you soften.

“Fine.” You answer.

With that, Dean nods to Sam and the two of them head to the door.

Once they’re back in the Impala, Sam looks over to Dean.

“You didn’t tell her about the bar.”

“No, Sam, I didn’t tell her about the bar.”

“Dean-"

“I wanna keep her safe, Sammy. Even if she gets pissed at me. I don’t care. I can handle that a hell of a lot better than I can handle anything else happening to her.”

Sam just swallows and nods his head. As mad as he knows you’ll be, part of him feels the same way Dean does.

“Vetala hunt in pairs. And they’re hunting at that bar.” Dean states. “And we already had a run in with a pretty aggressive pair there the other night.”

“The waitresses.” Sam says.

“Bingo.” Dean answers. “Let’s go get ‘em.”

“Dean…” Sam utters, “I hate lying to her.”

Dean sighs.

“I know, Sammy. Me too. But you and I can take on a couple of Vetala like its nothin’. It's a milk run. We’ll be in and out of the bar and back with lunch in no time.” He says as he pulls the Impala out of the parking lot.

“She won’t even know we’re lying.”

They’re lying.

You could sense it from the second they got back from the station. And you’re not about to sit around and wait for “lunch”, when you know damn well they’re doing something without you. You just don’t know what that is yet.

You warned them. You’d either do the hunt together, or you’d do it on your own.

You snag a car from a few parking lots over, and head to the station yourself. You don’t even bother to change into your FBI outfit. You have your badge, and that’s just gonna have to be good enough for them.

Once you get there, the Sheriff tells you a lot of things you already knew. Plus one thing you didn’t.

The bar.

All of the victims were last seen at the bar. The same bar where two very pushy women were going after your boys. Your boys who perfectly match the description of all the previous victims.

Son of a bitch.

Now you know where the two of them went. You thank the Sheriff and you’re about to head out the door when he calls after you, “Agent, wait!”

You turn to face him and he continues.

“Uh, the other agents didn’t seem too interested in anything I had to say after I told them about the bar. But we just got some reports from the medical examiner that are pretty interesting, if you want to take a look.”

Of course they didn’t want to see anything after hearing about the bar. At that point they had already decided they knew what they were dealing with. And how they wanted to deal with it.

You agree to take a look at the medical examiner’s reports, and head to the morgue with the Sheriff.

“There were two distinct bites on either side of this one’s neck.” The sheriff explains as he points to one of the victims from a few days ago.

“And there was just one distinct bite mark on this one.” He points to the other.

“The interesting thing is,” He goes on, “the M.E. puts time of death for these two at the exact same time.”

That isn’t news to you. The Vetala must have each taken a victim and sucked them dry at the same time.

“But,” He says, “We got three pretty clear sets of teeth.”

“What?” You ask.

“Yeah. I mean, dental impressions can be almost as recognizable as finger prints in humans and since we really weren’t… well, still aren’t sure what we were dealing with, we took molds of all the bites on the bodies. We got three very similar, but definitely distinct sets of teeth. Looks like maybe a pack of some kind of strange animal is going to town on people. Weird, huh?”

“Three sets?” You ask. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

You thank the Sheriff for his time and rush back to the car.

God damn it. There are three of them. Vetala typically hunt in pairs. But since when is anything ever typical for you and the boys?

And if they didn’t take the time to look at those medical examiner reports, then they have no idea that there’s a third monster.

And they’re walking right into a trap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh jeez.
> 
> The boys are so cute and so foolish at the same time. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What will happen when the Winchester boys unknowingly walk right into a trap?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I go again posting multiple chapters in one day.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

It’s hardly past lunch time and the bar doesn’t open until 5:00pm, so the parking lot is empty when the boys pull up.

They expect that if the monsters are catching and killing their victims here, then their home base is probably somewhere inside the building.

The front door is unlocked, so the boys go right in, their silver blades already drawn.

Out of the corner of the room, the two waitresses step into the light, grins on their faces.

“I guess you two decided to come back and play with us after all.” The blonde croons.

“Yeah, not so much ‘play’ as stab you in the heart.” Dean responds with a smug smile.

“Oh, that’s okay.” The brunette says as they both reveal their fangs. “We like it rough anyway.”

The brunette walks up to Sam and the blonde walks up to Dean, looking him up and down.

“I cannot wait to take my sweet time with you.” She hisses.

“Funny.” He answers. “Because I can’t wait to kill you as quickly as possible.”

With that, Dean lunges toward her and the two of them begin fighting as the brunette goes after Sam.

The four of them fight for a while, and just as Sam is about to stab the brunette, something comes up behind him and he feels fangs sink into the side of his neck.

“Agh!” He yells in pain as the monster behind him removes her teeth. He turns just in time to see the older woman, the owner of the bar, smiling back at him with blood-stained fangs. Then, he drops to the ground as the Vetala’s venom takes hold and knocks him out.

“Sam!” Dean shouts, turning to run towards his brother. Before he can, the blonde sinks her teeth into his neck from behind as the brunette grabs him as well and knocks the dagger from his hand.

He tries to fight the venom, but it quickly takes over and he’s unable to keep himself conscious, falling to the ground as all three of the Vetala’s look down at him and then grin at each other.

When Dean wakes up, he’s seated in a chair in the middle of what looks like one of the bar’s storage rooms, with boxes of liquor and other supplies surrounding him. He blinks a few times, still groggy from the venom, and looks to his right. He sees Sam still unconscious, blood dripping down the side of his neck, his arms tied tightly behind his back and his ankles tied to the legs of the chair.

Dean looks down at himself and realizes he’s positioned the same way. He tugs at the restraints holding his arms behind him and realizes they’re tied pretty damn tight. And with the way this venom’s kicking his ass right now, he’s definitely not strong enough to pull out of them, Mark of Cain or not.

“Sammy,” He whispers hoarsely, “Sammy, wake up.”

Sam stirs slowly, blinking and looking around the room before looking over to his brother.

“Are you okay?” Sam asks.

“Yuh,” Dean says as he stretches his neck slightly and winces. “I’m just peachy. You?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay.” Sam says as he tugs at his restraints, but they don’t budge. “Your blade?” He asks.

Dean shakes his head. “They took it. Yours?”

Sam just shakes his head too.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean mumbles.

“Well, hello handsome.” The blonde hums at Dean as all three Vetala step into the room. His jaw clenches as she circles him in his chair and runs her hand along his shoulders. “Glad to see you’re awake.”

She makes her way back in front of him and licks her lips. “I think you may just be the tastiest one I’ve had yet.”

He glares up at her. “Thanks. I get that a lot.”

“And you’re cocky.” She leans down, inches from him. “I like cocky.”

“Heh. Yeah, well, sorry lady but like I said before. Not interested.”

Her eyes darken slightly. “This time, you don’t have a choice, baby.” She grins once more and flashes her fangs before digging them into his neck. He grunts out in pain and furrows his brows. He tries to pull away from her but she grabs a handful of his hair and digs in even deeper.

“No! Dean!” Sam shouts, watching helplessly as the Vetala continues sucking the life from his brother. Dean gasps out and then grits his teeth, and it takes all the strength he has to stay conscious as his vision begins to blur.

The older woman, the owner of the bar, just watches with a big smile. After a few seconds, she lifts her hand.

“Okay, that’s enough.”

Immediately, the blonde pulls back from Dean and they both look at her. Dean huffs out in pain, disoriented from the loss of blood and the venom.

The older woman steps forward and rakes her eyes over Sam and Dean slowly. “Time for me to pick my favorite.”

The blonde whines out, “Please don’t take mine. You always take mine.”

The older woman snaps her head toward the blonde and the blonde instantly shuts up and takes a step back.

“That’s because I’m the leader of this pack. And the two of you would be lost without me.”

“Hah. Vetala hunting in a pack.” Sam sneers. “That’s a first.”

“I used to have a partner. We had a great system here for years. But then a nasty little hunter like YOU killed her. And I was left alone.”

“Oh, stop, please you’re breaking my heart.” Dean groans, still panting and wincing from the pain.

She glares at him before taking a step toward him.

“But then, I came upon these two.” She gestures to the two other women. “They were young, reckless. They never would have lasted. Your kind would have found them and killed them. But I took them under my wing. And now, we’ve had a successful operation here for years.”

“Well, good for you.” Dean sneers.

She leans forward with a growl. “Yes, good for me. Because every time cocky, know-it-all hunters like yourselves show up, they’re expecting two of us. And every time, they end up just like you.” She stands back up with a grin.

She looks between the boys once again, “I want the both of them.”

The blonde sighs. “Can we least have some fun with them first?”

The older woman looks at her. “Of course. Enjoy them for a while. I’ll be back.” She winks at the boys before exiting the room.

The Vetala step forward again. The brunette circles Sam, leaning over his shoulder from behind and inhaling deeply.

“Where’s your little girlfriend?” The blonde asks, circling Dean.

“None of your business.” Dean answers.

“Hm. Pity.” She whines. “I’d love to drain her right here in front of you.”

The brunette’s face lights up. “Maybe we can go find her after this. Bleed her out nice and slow. Teach her a lesson.”

The blonde leans forward, her face inches from Dean’s. “That’s a great idea. We might just have to do that.”

Dean glares daggers at her. “Don’t touch her.”

The blonde smirks. “For now, baby, the only one I’ll be touching is you.” With that, she lunges forward and buries her teeth into his neck once more.

Before Sam can protest, the brunette does the same to him.

Both boys grunt and struggle, but they slow down as they feel themselves fading. Just as they’re both about to lose consciousness, the front doors of the bar can be heard crashing open in the other room.

The Vetala stand suddenly, their eyes darting from the door of the storage room to each other. They each grab some cloth and tie it around the boys’ mouths to gag them. 

The boys exchange confused and concerned glances, both of them wondering through their cloudy consciousness what the noise might have been.

The Vetala begin to head for the door but before they even get halfway there, the door flies open.

And there you are.

Your eyes are dark and your chest is heaving as you take a few steps into the room.

“Those two,” You nod at the boys. “Are mine.”

The Vetala just grin at you.

“We were just talking about you.” The blonde coos.

“Were you? I’m flattered.” You say, taking another step toward them.

Your eyes dart quickly to the boys to make sure they’re okay. You can see they’re both bleeding pretty bad, but they’re conscious. Just barely. Your heart sinks slightly as you look at Dean and see how badly he’s bleeding, and how out of it he looks.

“Yes,” The brunette answers, “We were talking about how much we’d love to drain you of every last drop of your blood.”

You chuckle. “Well, come on then. What are you waiting for?”

Behind you, the older Vetala enters the room silently and begins sneaking up behind you.

The boys begin grunting and pulling against their bonds as much as possible in their weakened state, but with the gags in their mouths there’s no way for them to warn you of what’s behind you.

You take another step forward, but the Vetala’s grins just get even wider.

“What’s so amusing?” You ask quietly.

The older one is now only a couple feet behind you, and still silently creeping forward.

The blonde giggles. “We know something you don’t know.”

“Is that so?” You ask with a smirk.

They nod at you and smile even bigger.

You lean forward, narrow your eyes, and whisper with a smug grin, “Would that something happen to be that there are three of you?”

Their smiles instantly fade and their eyes go wide.

In one swift motion you pull a silver dagger from your waistband, spin around, and plunge it into the chest of the oldest monster. She gasps out, her eyes going wide, and you twist the blade. She drops to the ground and her lifeless body crumbles to pieces.

The other two shriek out in shock and anger, and you just turn back to them with a smile.

“Oops.” You look at the blonde. “Guess you aren’t as smart as you look.” You mock.

She snarls and they both lunge toward you at the same time. The blonde reaches you first and tries to grab you, but you duck below her arms and then jump up, punching her in the jaw just as the brunette reaches you and grabs you by the hair. You spin around and knee her in the stomach, and as she doubles over you shove your dagger into her chest with a satisfied grin and twist hard. She, too, crumbles to the ground and you hear the blonde shriek behind you once again.

As you turn around, she punches you across the face and knocks the dagger from your hand. She punches you once more, even harder, and you drop to your knees, holding your face. The boys pull against their restraints again, their eyes wide with concern.

She leans down and hisses. “I am going to make you suffer. And then I’m going to drain the life out of your boyfriend, right in front of you.” She grabs you by the hair and yanks your head back, forcing you to look up at her. “You have no idea who you’re messing with, baby.”

You look up at her. “No, baby,” You grin, then you reach your hand into your boot and in a flash, you pull out another dagger and stand up as you thrust it upward into her heart.

You lean forward, your face inches from hers as she gasps.

“You have no idea who YOU’RE messing with.” You growl as you twist the blade, and she drops to the ground.

You look down at her, breathing heavily for a few seconds. Then, you look over to the boys. You rush over to Sam first, removing the gag from his mouth and cutting the ropes from his wrists and ankles.

“Alright, Sammy?” You ask as you take off your flannel and tear it in two, pressing one half to his neck. He nods, so you make your way over to Dean. You cut the rope from his wrists and ankles as well, then stand in front of him as you pull out his gag.

You kneel down in from of him and take his face in your hands, getting him to focus his bleary gaze on you.

“Hey, hey, Winchester. Look at me. Come on.” You beg quietly.

When his green eyes finally connect with yours, you smile slightly in relief.

“There he is.” You whisper, pressing the other half of your flannel on his wounds.

“Okay?” You ask, looking into his eyes.

"Okay.” He says with a nod, staring at you in amazement.

“Okay.” You say, helping him to his feet. “Then let’s get the hell out of here, boys.”

You leave the car you stole in the parking lot of the bar and use the Impala to drive the injured boys back to the motel in silence as they hold pieces of your ripped flannel against the wounds on their necks and blink away the last effects of the Vetala venom.

You help them both into the hotel room and sit them down on the bed as you dig out the first aid kit. Based on what you saw back at the bar, they’re both gonna need stitches.

They both eye you silently, taking in the old, still-healing wounds on your face, chest, and arms that are now accompanied by new scratches and bruises of your own, along with lots of Vetala blood.

They're so amazed, so stunned by you, that they have no words. They just watch you as you gather up the materials needed to stitch up their wounds.

Eventually, you turn to them, eyebrows raised, looking them both up and down as they sit on the ends of their beds.

They look at each other, as if they’re trying to silently argue over who should speak first.

Finally, Dean clears his throat and looks at you.

“You were right.”

You walk up to him silently and hastily pour whiskey on the side of his neck, causing him to grunt slightly and wince in pain.

You lean over slightly so that your face is close to his ear, but your whisper is loud enough so that Sam can hear it, too.

“Someday, the two of you are going to realize that I usually am.”

The ice of your voice nearly sends chills down both boys’ spines, and they both swallow hard.

“We were idiots.” Sam mutters.

“Yup.” You say as you stitch the wound Dean’s neck.

After a few moments of tense silence, you finish stitching Dean and head over to Sam. He looks up at you in fear as you splash whiskey on his wound as well, and he winces.

As you begin to stitch Sam, Dean mumbles. “We woulda been dead if you hadn’t busted in there.”

“Uh-huh.” You reply.

After a few more moments of silence, you finish stitching Sam and head back over to the table to pack up the first aid kit.

From behind you, you hear Dean clear his throat once more and speak up.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart. We’re sorry. We thought we were protecting you. We… we forgot that you don’t need protecting. I swear, we learned our lesson. No more handling you like glass, alright?”

You turn around, and grab a chair from the table, slowly dragging it until you’re sitting only about a foot in front of the boys. You lean forward and narrow your eyes at them, looking them each up and down slowly before finally speaking.

“You’re sorry?” You look at Dean. “Huh. That’s becoming a bit of a theme for you, isn’t it?”

Dean closes his eyes as the accuracy of your words hits him.

You look between the two of them again.

“I forgive you. Because apparently, somewhere along the line, I became a forgiving person when it comes to you jerks. And I know that you THOUGHT you were protecting me.”

They both just watch you, knowing there’s nothing they can do but accept whatever verbal beating you have for them, and knowing they deserve it.

“Plus, I like it a Hell of a lot better when you two are the damsels in distress.”

They both chuckle slightly, but you lean forward in your seat and stare them down even harder, and their smiles instantly fade.

“But if you EVER lie to me or underestimate me again, next time I will save you from the monster JUST so I can kill you both myself.” 

They both tense up as you lean forward just a little more and whisper,

“Don’t ever forget who the fuck I am again.”

They both swallow hard, and both stare at you, wide-eyed for a few seconds.

Sam clears his throat. “Nope. No. Never again.”

Dean clears his throat as well, “Yeah, uh, lesson learned. Thank you... for saving our asses."

You lean back, smile, look at them both earnestly, and say,

“I’m glad you two are okay.”

With that, they both relax. You take a long sip of whiskey before handing it to Dean.

The three of you continue talking and drinking as you explain to them how you figured out there were three monsters and how you managed to save them just in time.

Eventually, you all decide to call it a night and you crawl into bed next to Dean, exhausted.

Although the room is dark, you can see the bright green of his eyes studying your face intently.

“I’m sorry. Again.” He whispers.

“Good. You should be.” You say. “And I forgive you. Again.”

“How are you possibly real?” He whispers.

You chuckle slightly.

“No, I mean it.” He goes on. “Watching you kick monster ass... it's the biggest turn on in the world. You… you amaze me. With hunting, and with everything else you do. It’s like… it’s like you were made for me.”

You smile as your Y/E/C eyes focus on his in the darkness. You know exactly how he feels.

“I could say the same to you, Winchester.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After all that suffering, it felt SO good to finally give the reader the bad ass moment she deserved. Well, one of many she deserves.
> 
> Also, just to keep you all on your toes: the next chapter will FINALLY tell us who got her out of Hell... and why.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their latest hunt, the boys and the reader return to the bunker. Little do they know, they're about to find out more information than they're prepared for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I won't lie to you guys.
> 
> I have been SUPER nervous to post this chapter because translating the story that I've had in my mind for the reader into a chapter that makes sense and is original was TOUGH.
> 
> I really, really hope you enjoy.

The next morning, you and the boys pack up and head back to the bunker.

As you enter and head down the stairs, you notice Cass standing the middle of the room below you.

A wide grin spreads across your face, and you run the rest of the way down the stairs, drop your bag, and rush up to him, your arms wrapping around him tightly.

As your body hits his, he lets out a surprised “OOF!” before melting into the hug, closing his eyes, and wrapping his arms around you just as tightly.

You pull back and look into his bright blue eyes. “Hi, Cass.”

“Hello, Y/N. You look…” He looks you up and down.

“No longer on the verge of death like the last time you saw me?” You ask with a smirk.

He clears his throat and looks down. “Uh, well… yes. I mean, you look very good.”

“I heard you had something to do with that.” You look at him earnestly and place a hand on his cheek. “Thank you, Cass.”

He smiles at you. “Of course. I was happy to help. I… well, I missed you.”

You smile again. “I missed you too, buddy.”

The boys make it to the bottom of the stairs as well and stride up behind you.

“Hey, Cass.” Dean says. “Any leads?”

“I actually came to tell you, the angels… they’ve begun to… rally behind me. It seems that many of them felt lost without some leadership and they are looking to me for that. It may actually help us in the fight against Metatron. They are all working to figure out his next move and to help locate him.”

“Huh. What are you like… Chief Angel?” Dean chuckles.

“Well, actually... many of them have chosen to call me Commander, not Chief.” Cass replies.

You exchange glances with the boys before the three of you begin to chuckle.

“Well, aren’t you a rock star.” Dean says.

You and the boys get settled and order some dinner, and all four of you sit around the map table together for the next few hours. Cass tells you more about the angels now following him and their hunt for Metatron and the door to Heaven. You guys tell Cass about the Vetala hunt and you just shake your head when the boys describe how “bad ass” you were, killing three monsters in a row right in front of them. The four of you continue to just hang out, trying desperately to take a break from all the stress that Metatron and the impending angel war will inevitably bring. Despite that, you’re having a good time. You always do when you’re surrounded by your boys.

You head to the kitchen to get another round of beer. As you’re closing the fridge and turning around, Dean’s suddenly behind you. He grins as he wraps his arms around you, lifts you quickly, and places you on the counter.

You smile at him, confused. “What are you doing, Winchester?”

He takes the beers from your hand and places them on the counter next to you. With his signature cocky smirk he drawls, “I just couldn’t go another minute without kissin’ you, Sweetheart.”

He moves forward so that he’s in between your legs, takes your face in one hand, places his other hand on the outside of your thigh, and pulls you toward him, kissing you softly.

You kiss him back, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him even closer to you. You wrap one hand around the back of his neck and inhale his leather and gunpowder scent as he dips his tongue into your mouth, and your heart begins to race. You continue this way for a few moments, tongues dipping and lips pressing passionately until you gently bite his bottom lip, pulling away to look at him seductively.

“Thank God we are gonna have our own room tonight.” He breathes.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just bend me over this counter right here and now?” You whisper with a smirk.

He rolls his hips toward you and groans in frustration, knowing you both need to get back out to Sam and Cass.

“You know exactly what to say to make me weak, Sweetheart.”

“I’ll make it up to you later.” You say with a wink as you hop off the counter, grab the beers, and head out of the kitchen, adding just a little extra sway to your hips as you walk.

Dean bites his lip and rolls his eyes as he watches you leave, but then follows right after you once you’re out of sight.

You both head back to the map table and distribute the beer, and you take your seat as you look over to Cass.

“So, have you guys actually gotten anywhere with finding Metatron? Or the door the Heaven?” You ask.

“I… believe we may be getting close.” Cass replies.

“That’s a big fat bloody no.” You all hear from the other end of the room.

You all jump to your feet instinctively, and you turn to see Crowley sauntering over to you.

Dean groans and Sam rolls his eyes but Crowley ignores them, his gaze focusing on you.

“Hello, love.” He looks you up and down. “You’re looking well.”

There’s a genuine relief in his eyes and you can feel, as much as he may try to mask it, how happy he is that you’re okay.

“Thank you, Crowley.” You say, looking into his eyes sincerely. “For everything.”

He nods his head and winks at you and with that, Dean clears his throat and takes a defensive step toward you.

“Yeah, but uh… what are you doing here now?” Dean asks him with a glare.

“Well, Squirrel, I decided that as a little welcome back gift to Y/N, I would look into who originally ordered her deal. Being the King of Hell, I have that kind of pull now. And I know it’s something she’s always wondered about.” He looks at you. “Isn’t that right, love?”

Your throat goes dry and you nod. “Yeah, uh… of course.”

The air in the room becomes tense as everyone wonders what Crowley may have found, and you notice Cass looking almost ashamed and swallowing hard as he listens to Crowley.

“Well?” Sam demands.

“Well, I found nothing.” Crowley states.

“Ugh, Crowley, seriously?!” Dean grumbles. “All that just to tell us you found nothing?”

Crowley glares daggers at Dean. “If you’d let me FINISH!” He shrieks, and Dean just goes quiet and clenches his jaw.

“I found nothing,” He continues, “Because there was nothing to find. It wasn’t Hell who pulled the strings to get you that deal.”

You stare at him, perplexed. “Then, who did?”

“Heaven.” Cass states guiltily.

You all turn to look at him suddenly.

“What are you talking about, Cass?” You ask.

“It wasn’t anyone in Hell who demanded you get a deal. It was Heaven.”

You scoff. “What? What would Heaven possibly want with me?”

Cass sighs. “I should’ve said something sooner. I just, I wasn’t certain it was you. Not right away.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You weren’t certain WHAT was me, Castiel?”

“You… are special, Y/N. You were created by God with a divine purpose.”

You laugh. “Uh, no. You must have me confused with someone else. There is nothing divine about the life I’ve led.”

“The life you have led was designed by God himself.” He returns.

The boys and Crowley look from Castiel to you, wide-eyed. You stare at Cass, speechless.

“What?” You ask.

“It was all meant to lead you to your destiny. Your life, it was all God’s pl-"

“No.” You cut him off, pointing toward him. “Don’t you dare tell me that what happened to me in my life was God’s plan.”

Cass just looks down, but doesn’t answer.

You exhale sharply, shock overwhelming you.

“What was this divine plan, Cass?” Sam asks.

Cass looks up. “She was always meant to go to Hell. And everything that happened before she went to Hell was meant to make her strong. Strong enough that she wouldn’t break once she got there. She was just…” He looks over to Crowley, “meant to go there much sooner than she did.”

Crowley’s eyes go wide slightly before he puts his hands in his jacket pockets and looks down, now clearly trying to keep himself as far removed from this as possible.

“Why?” Dean asks, swallowing hard. “Why was she meant to go sooner?”

Cass looks at Dean intently. “Because she was meant to be there when you got there.”

You all stare at him, baffled, and he goes on.

“The connection that the two of you have is no accident.” He looks between you and Dean. “It’s destiny.”

You and Dean look at each other in astonishment and Cass continues.

“Y/N’s connection to you, her strength, it was meant to give you strength, Dean. Strength to-"

“To keep me from ever saying yes to Alastair.” Dean croaks. “From breaking the first seal and jump-starting the apocalypse.”

Cass nods, and Dean clenches his jaw.

“So,” You mumble, “if I had gotten there when I was supposed to… the first seal would never have been broken. And… Lucifer would never have risen from the cage?”

Cass nods again and you just exhale sharply, hardly able to believe everything you’re hearing.

“So what you’re really saying is that this whole thing is Crowley’s fault.” Dean says. “If he had given her the deal he was supposed to, she would have gotten there when she was supposed to.”

With that, everyone looks to Crowley.

He looks around at all of you, wide-eyed.

“Well, I didn’t know!” He shrieks. He looks around again, but no one says anything.

“I do something kind and HEARTFELT and THIS is the thanks I get.” He grumbles.

“So, you’re telling me that God planned this whole destiny for her and yet he didn’t anticipate Crowley switching it up?” Sam asks.

“You and your brother of all people know that destiny isn’t set it stone. There are always variables. There’s always free will. Crowley unknowingly used his to alter God’s plan that day he made a deal with Y/N. And once the deal was made, no one could step in to change it.”

“No,” You shake your head, “No, this is all too crazy.”

“There’s more.” Cass states deeply.

You scoff. “Of course there is. There’s always more.”

“You weren’t just destined to be there to stop the 66 seals. You were destined to override them altogether. To be the only seal. The one that seals Lucifer’s cage, forever.”

You all just stare at him, shocked and confused.

“The reason that your life was so difficult,” Cass continues, “was to make you so strong that you became unbreakable. Then, that unbreakable strength was meant to be tested in Hell. If your strength could be forged in the fires of Hell, if you could go without breaking longer than anyone else, then your destiny would be solidified and you would be strong enough to be a seal that no one could break.”

“Longer than anyone else,” You swallow hard. “Three hundred years.”

Cass nods again. “And it is written that she who does not break in Hell will be forged in it’s fires as the seal that is forever unbreakable, and will lock the devil’s cage forever.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” You whisper.

“So… the one who sprung her from hell after three hundred years…” Dean mumbles.

“Was God.” Cass replies.

You heart jumps to your throat.

“Why?” You ask. “I didn’t stop the seals from being broken. Lucifer got out. Why even bother getting me out if it was all pointless?”

Everyone ponders your questions in silence for a moment before Castiel finally answers you.

“I don’t believe it was all pointless.” You all look at him in disbelief. “You may not have fulfilled your destiny of preventing the breaking of the first seal, but… you did fulfill your destiny of lasting there without breaking for three hundred years. Of being as unbreakable as God anticipated you would be.”

“What… what are you saying, Cass?” You question hesitantly.

“The boys were able to force Lucifer and Michael back into the cage.” He answers.

“And?” Sam asks.

“And I believe,” He looks into your eyes, “That you may now be the only seal keeping that cage locked this time.”

You suddenly feel dizzy. This can’t be possible.

“No, no way.” You say. “That doesn’t even make sense. Why make the seal a PERSON?! Why not just put an ACTUAL lock on the cage?”

“Any real, physical lock would be broken by Lucifer’s power. He would have nothing to do but focus all of his energy on it, and he would eventually break it. The seal needed to be something he couldn’t access, something that he didn’t even know existed.” Cass explains.

You don’t respond to that. There’s nothing you can say.

“That explains why Alastair said what he did.” Sam says.

“What did he say?” Cass asks.

“That I needed to be broken. That it was the key to everything.” You breathe.

Cass sighs. “You’re the key and the lock all in one. It’s possible, after all this time in the cage searching for ways to get out, Lucifer may have figured out the prophecy. And now his followers will be trying to break the lock and set him free once again.”

“But isn’t the whole point that she’s unbreakable?” Sam asks. “I mean, that’s God’s whole plan for her, right? That she can’t be ‘broken’?”

Cass looks at him. “We all know God’s plans aren’t full-proof. She’s certainly shown in her life thus far that she’s unbreakable. But, that doesn’t mean there isn’t something. Some weakness that God did not anticipate. I’m sure Lucifer’s followers will all have their own theories they will be looking try. Just as Alastair tried everything he could think of as well.”

You let out an exasperated laugh. “Fantastic.”

This can’t be happening. Now, every Lucifer loyalist who hears about this will be coming after you, doing anything they can to try to break you and free him.

No pressure.

“Why… why me?” You utter.

Cass looks into your eyes. “Because you were chosen, Y/N.”

You swallow hard. Chosen. By God. Is this what it feels like to be a Winchester? Because it sucks.

“Why didn’t you ever tell us about this prophecy, Cass? Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Sam asks.

“Once Lucifer rose from Hell, I had just assumed the prophecy never came true. It wasn’t until I got to know Y/N… felt her power and her strength, and learned of her story… that I knew who she was.”

“And how DO you know all this, Cass?” Dean asks quietly.

Cass just looks down, tensing up immediately and clenching his jaw tightly.

You notice his body language and step closer to him.

“Castiel.” You demand. “How do you know?”

He swallows hard before looking up at you.

“Because I was the one who was sent to deliver you to Earth. To ensure that your parents met and that your mother became pregnant with you.”

You just continue staring at him in shock, and Dean finally speaks up.

“I thought that kind of thing was Cupid’s deal.”

Cass shakes his head. “Not for Y/N. She was too… important.”

“So,” You swallow hard before continuing, “You are the one who made sure I ended up in the life I ended up in.”

Cass nods subtly.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, then ask, “Did you know?”

The boys look slightly confused by what you’re asking, but Cass doesn’t. He just looks down again, furrowing his brows.

“Cass!” You yell. You take another deep breath and mutter, “Did you know everything that was going to happen to me when you made sure I ended up in that life?”

He looks up at you, his bright blue eyes piercing yours, and says, “Yes.”

The boys look between you and Castiel in shock, and Crowley just stands there, clearly as surprised as them.

You exhale sharply and squeeze your eyes closed as your jaw begins to quiver slightly.

“You son of a bitch.” You whisper.

“I was… a soldier.” Cass croaks out. “It was long before I met the Winchesters. Before I learned of free will. I didn’t… know you. I was just following orders. I am… I am so sorry. All this time, as I have gotten to know you, and as I have realized who you are… you can’t know how hard it’s been. Knowing I did that to you. Especially now, that you’ve come to mean so much to me.”

You open your eyes and glare at him with overwhelming fury. You shake your head in disgust before stomping past him and out of the room.

“Well,” Crowley looks around at the boys, “on that note…” He disappears suddenly.

Sam and Dean just stare at Cass. Dean takes a step toward him, his face stern.

“You healed her. I can never thank you enough for that. But, man…” He shakes his head. “For right now, you should go.”

“Dean,” Cass utters, “I never meant to… if I could change it…”

“You can’t.” Dean states harshly. “Get out.”

Cass simply nods his head solemnly and disappears, and Dean looks at Sam before walking out of the room to follow you.

You rush into your room, your head spinning, the weight of all this information crashing down on you.

You’re so angry at Castiel. You thought he was your friend. One of your only friends. You know he was just “following orders”. But right now, you don’t care. You trusted him. And he betrayed you.

You’re so confused by all of this destiny bullshit that it makes your head spin. You can’t wrap your mind around how YOU could be chosen for this so called divine purpose. How your life, all the death and pain and suffering, could possibly be God’s will. Truly, it makes you want to kick God’s ass yourself.

You feel so much pressure. You’re now responsible for whether or not the Devil makes it topside again. And the worst part is – you don’t even know exactly how to stop that from happening. You don’t even know what the Hell it will actually take for you to break, or what the Hell that even means, so you don’t have any idea what you should do. Or shouldn’t do. You don’t even know which way is up right now.

And on top of all of it, you’re terrified. You’re terrified of what this means for your future. If this is all true, then that means you have a bigger target on your back than you ever have before. You’re not afraid of being hunted by demons. You’re not even really afraid of being tortured by them. But knowing that because of you, the two people you care about most in the world may also be in danger, that’s what terrifies you.

Dean enters you room behind you. You spin around to look at him and he can instantly see the panic on your face.

“Hey, hey. It’s gonna be okay. I know that was a lot, but-"

“But what?!” You shout. “My whole life... everything I thought I knew has just been flipped upside down!”

“I know.” He answers quietly.

“And Cass! I trusted him. And now, now I find out he’s responsible for all of it!”

“I know.” He answers again, stepping toward you.

“And NOW I’m a fucking walking beacon of light to every Lucifer loyalist. And it’s entirely on ME whether or not he stays in the cage. Whether or not he gets out and tries to end the WORLD again!” You scream.

“No.” He says softly, taking your face in his hands. “No, it’s not on you. It’s on us. Because we are going to deal with this together. We will figure it out. Together.”

You shake your head. “No, Dean. I have to leave.” You grab your bag and start throwing belongings into it.

He furrows his brows as he watches you. “What?”

“I should get as far away from you guys as possible. This SHIT follows me everywhere, no matter what I do. They’re gonna come for me, and I can’t risk you two getting hurt.”

He exhales a slight chuckle.

“What?” You ask, pausing your packing.

“Sometimes it scares me how much like me you are.” He utters.

You sigh. “Dean…”

“You’re not leaving.” He says.

You continue packing. “I have to.”

He takes a step toward you. “You’re tellin’ me you can just walk away from us? From me?”

The pain in his voice rips through you, but you don’t look at him. You just keep packing.

“Y/N…” He takes another step toward you, but you don’t look at him. You can’t. All you want to do is keep him and Sam safe.

“How many times have I screwed up because I was trying to protect you? Huh?” He asks. “And every time… I was wrong. Because you’re not weak, and you don’t need protecting, right?”

You hear what he’s saying, but you just continue to throw things into your bag in a panic.

“Well, Sammy and I don’t need protecting either. And in case you forgot, this wouldn’t be the first time we’ve danced with the Devil. When it comes to stopping the apocalypse, we have a pretty damn good track record.”

You know that he’s right, that you would kick his ass if he tried to leave to protect you if the tables were turned. But right now, all you can think about is being the reason something happens to him. To Sam. So you keep packing.

“Y/N.” He says your name again, pleading with you to look at him, to hear him out. But you just keep going, moving erratically, your whole body trembling as you throw belongings into bags, feeling yourself becoming more and more overwhelmed by the second.

Suddenly, he grabs you. He spins you around, pins you against the wall, takes your face in his hands and presses his lips to yours urgently. You inhale sharply, but quickly melt into the kiss and feel yourself relaxing at the feeling of his lips on your lips, and his body so close to yours.

You feel him pouring all of his emotion into this kiss, begging you to stay without saying a word. He’s holding you so tightly, and that connection, that fire between the two of you, is charging through you both and echoing through every last nerve in your body.

He pulls away slowly, squeezing his eyes closed and pressing his forehead against yours, his hands still gripping you tightly. You close your eyes as well, breathing in the passion that’s radiating off of him.

“I love you.” He whispers. “And you’re not leaving.”

You take a deep breath and he pulls his head back, looking at your face and studying your eyes intently.

“Okay?” He asks.

You nod slightly. "Okay."

Relief washes over his face. “Okay.” He whispers.

“We can take on anything.” He breathes, his green eyes still studying yours.

“I mean you heard him, Sweetheart,” His lips curl into a slight smile, “You and me, we’re destiny.” He rasps.

You smile slightly and kiss him again, desperately and passionately, and then he wraps his arms around you and pulls you tightly into his chest.

You close your eyes as you bury your face in Dean’s chest, the beating of his heart helping to steady the beating of your own. Once again, he’s pulled you back from the edge. You're not leaving. As afraid as you still are of putting them in danger, you can’t leave them. They need you.

And you need them.

Now, more than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> I hope you're still with me. I have so much more planned.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader and the boys figure out a little more information on their own.
> 
> And Dean does whatever he can to make the reader feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright this chapter may or may not just be an excuse for me to write some more shameless smut.
> 
> But there's a bit of real story in there, too.
> 
> Enjoy!!

Once Dean calms you down enough for you to at least be able to think straight (and he tells you that he kicked Cass out), you head back out to the map room. Sam’s sitting there, laptop open, books strewn all over the table. When he sees you, he looks up at you with heartfelt concern.

“Hey… you okay?” He asks.

You sit down next to him and lean your head on his shoulder.

“What do you think?” You grumble.

He chuckles slightly. “Yeah, yeah I guess that was a stupid question.”

You glance at his computer screen and realize that he’s got about 20 different tabs open, all researching seals and Lucifer’s cage. You smile slightly. It hasn’t even been an hour and Sam is already doing everything he can to figure this out.

“Find anything?” You ask hesitantly, not sure you even want to know if he did.

“Yeah, I think so.” He states.

You sit up and look at him, waiting for him to elaborate, and Dean enters the room with another round of beer for the three of you, then sits down at the table across from you and Sam.

Sam takes a sip of his beer, then goes on. “There are countless websites and books that talk about the seals, but most of them just talk about the ones we dealt with the first time the demons were trying to raise Lucifer.”

“Most of them.” Dean repeats.

“Yeah,” Sam says, “One of the books we actually had here, a really freakin’ ancient one actually, is all about seals. Of all kinds.” He picks it up and begins flipping through it.

“And apparently... this prophecy Cass was describing…” He looks at you as he places the open book down in the middle of the table for all three of you to look at. “Is true.”

You and Dean both look down at the ancient pages. There’s lots of writing, and images of Lucifer and the cage, but what jumps out to you is the section at the bottom of the cage. The section titled “The Unbreakable Seal”.

‘And it is written that she who does not break in Hell will be forged in it’s fires as the seal that is forever unbreakable, and will lock the devil’s cage forever.’

Right there. Written in black and white. Exactly like Cass said.

“The book says that God created that prophecy as some kind of fail-safe that he would only actually put into motion if he thought that there was a chance the apocalypse might happen.” Sam explains.

“So... God created me to fulfill this prophecy because he got a little nervous that the apocalypse was on it’s way?” You ask.

“Pretty much.” Sam answers.

“What happened that made him nervous enough to think it might happen?” Dean asks.

“My guess?” Sam says. “We did.”

You and Sam just look at him, confused, and he looks at Dean.

“I mean, the angels always told us that you and I were always meant to break the first and the last seal, right? That that was OUR destiny?”

“Yeah. So?” Dean replies.

“So…” Sam continues, “Once we were born, that destiny of breaking those seals was started.”

“And he created Y/N because he knew that you I were gonna be the ones to jump-start the apocalypse.” Dean says as realization hits him.

“So essentially, I was born to stop you two from messing up.” You mutter.

All three of you exchange glances before Dean raises his eyebrows and nods.

“Well, that sounds about right.” He declares.

“Yeah, except I wasn’t there to do that and it happened anyway. So maybe the prophecy never really came true. Maybe Cass was wrong about me still being the seal now that Lucifer and Michael are back in the cage.” You say hopefully.

“I don’t think he was wrong.” Sam says. “Honestly… God’s a dick. He wouldn’t have bothered to get you out of Hell after all of that unless it was all still true. Unless you still served a purpose. I think… I think you are still the seal.”

“Great.” You sigh. You look at Sam earnestly. “Thanks, Sammy.”

“For what?” He asks.

“For figuring this all out so quickly.” You say.

“You don’t ever have to thank me, Y/N.” He says with a smile.

“Yeah, well, apparently Lucifer’s figured it all out too. Or at least his followers have.” Dean states.

“Don’t they realize that they won’t just be releasing Lucifer from the cage?” You ask. “I mean, Michael’s in there, too.”

“They probably don’t care.” Sam responds. “They’d probably rather have both of them out than not have Lucifer out at all.”

“So pretty much… I’m gonna have Lucifer’s followers after me… probably Michael’s followers after me… and they’re all going to be trying to ‘break’ me… when none of us know what that even MEANS, let alone what it will take.”

You all just look around at each other, realizing that there really is no other way to put it. There's no sugar coating this thing.

“Well,” You take a long swig of your beer, “this oughta be fun.”

“This means you’re gonna have to lay low for a while.” Dean says.

As soon as the words leave his lips, he and Sam exchange looks, both of them preparing themselves and each other for you to tell them off.

You take another long swig of beer, set it down on the table, and look at Dean. “You’re right.”

They both look at you, then each other, in shock.

“I am?” He asks.

“Yeah. I hate it. But until I figure this whole ‘breaking me’ thing out, and what that might even mean, it’s probably not a good idea for me to be a walking target out there.”

“Well, I know how hard that’s gonna be for ya, Sweetheart, but I’m proud of you for that.” Dean says as he tips his beer at you before downing the rest of it.

You finish your own beer and stand. “Well, I don’t know about you guys but my brain is exhausted. I’m gonna shower, forget about my problems, and try not to think for a few minutes. Thank you both.” You look between the two of them. “I may have been created to keep you two from messing up, but I don’t know where I’d be either if I didn’t have you two to reign me in.” You smile slightly at them before exiting the room and heading to your own.

You grab your towel and head to the showers. All of this information is still sinking in, and although being around the boys does make you feel better, what you really need right now is a hot shower. You crank the water on as hot as it will go, and the steam starts filling the room instantly.

You take your clothes off and step in, and the hot water feels incredible on your skin. You turn and face the water, letting it run over your head and down over your face and neck. You don’t hear the bathroom door open. But you do hear the door to the shower stall open slowly. And you know exactly who it is without even needing to turn around.

You feel Dean’s body as he steps up behind you. He touches the middle of your back, gently trailing his fingertips from between your shoulder blades down to your lower back, and then back up. Despite the hot water, a chill runs down your back from his touch. He places one hand softly on your waist, and wraps the other around to the front of you, running his open hand tenderly over your neck and chest. You feel his hot breath as his lips brush your outer ear.

“You said you wanted to not think for a while.” His voice is a low, hoarse whisper. “How about I fuck every last thought right out of that pretty little head?”

You moan quietly as his words instantly turn you on, and you press your body back against him, feeling his hardness against you. When you rub against him, he reaches his hand down and begins rubbing your already throbbing clit. This causes you to moan again and rub against him even harder, and he lets out a husky growl before kissing and biting at your neck. He presses slightly harder on your clit as he continues to rub it and you gasp out another breathless moan. He brings his hand from your hip up to your breast, taking it in his hand and squeezing as he pulls you even closer to his body. He rubs your nipple at the same pace he’s rubbing your clit, and you squeeze your eyes closed and lean your head back against his chest as you push your body even further into his touch.

He leans his mouth down next to your ear once again and huffs, “You wanna forget your problems? Well Sweetheart, I’m gonna make you feel so good you forget your own name.”

You moan again, and in that instant he spins you around, wraps his hands around the back of your thighs, and lifts you, pinning you against the wall of the shower. You place your hands on his chest and wrap your legs around his waist urgently and in that same second, he thrusts himself into you.

You gasp out and he grunts in pleasure as you use your legs to pull him closer and he fills you completely. This is the first time you really see him since he’s gotten in the shower with you, and it nearly knocks all the breath from your body. Time seems to stop for a few brief seconds as you look at each other.

He’s surrounded by clouds of steam, his wet hair is spiked away from his face, the hot water falling down over his face, dripping off of his plump lips and down his neck to his heaving chest. His lust-filled eyes seem more green than they ever have before as he studies every inch of your face and body the same way you’re studying his.

He pulls his hips back, and then slowly pushes himself back inside of you. The pleasure surges through your entire body, and you throw your head back against the wall and squeeze your eyes closed. You squeeze his chest and he growls out in pleasure at the feeling of your nails digging into his skin.

He continues at an almost agonizingly slow pace at first, slowly pulling himself out of you and pushing back in over and over again. You open your eyes and look at him, and see him looking back at you in an overwhelmingly attractive mix of pure wonder and uncontrollable lust.

He presses his mouth against yours urgently at the same time he begins to pick up his pace, causing you to moan against his lips. You wrap your hands around the back of his neck and kiss him back as he pulls out and fills you up once more. Your lips move together in perfect rhythm and your tongues dip desperately in and out of each other’s mouths around breathless pants and whining gasps.

He picks up his speed once more, rapidly pulling his hips back and slamming them forward again, his cock filling you at such a relentless and flawless pace that the entire world around you fades and you feel yourself quickly climbing toward your peak.

“Oh, fuck, Dean!” You whine his name as you grab his face in one hand and his bicep tightly in the other, getting closer to your climax with each powerful thrust.

“Oh, god,” He grunts as he feels your muscles begin to tighten around him. He looks deeply into your eyes, his breathtaking green eyes boring into your soul. The sheer ecstasy running through your veins in this instant is so mind-blowing that you can’t even think, you just look back into his eyes as you both plummet over the edge at the same time, your legs trembling as you both ride out your orgasms together.

He continues to hold you up against the wall and you lean forward, pressing your forehead to his as you both pant and try to catch your breath, the hot water still falling down on both of you. After a moment, you both pull away and look at each other once more.

“Jesus.” You pant. “You’re something else, Winchester.”

“No, Sweetheart,” He breathes, “That’s all you.”

“What's my name again?" You ask with a smirk. "Because you just made me feel so damn good that I forgot."

He chuckles as he gently places you back on your feet and you stand on wobbly legs. You get out of the shower together and he wraps a towel around his waist before helping you dry off, silently admiring every inch of you, and wrapping a towel around you.

“Laying low might not be so bad if I get more of that.” You say with a grin.

He grins back and takes your face in his hands.

“You can have more of that any time you want. You just say the word.” He whispers before leaning forward and planting his lips firmly on yours.

The two of you head to his room together and he pulls on a pair of boxers and hands you one of his black t-shirts. You put it on and laugh as he grabs your wrist and drags you into the bed with him.

You crawl under the covers together and he lays behind you, one arm under your pillow and the other wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling your body as close to his as possible.

You close your eyes, reveling in the safety and comfort you seem to only find when you're in his arms.

“As long as I’m around, Sweetheart,” He whispers sleepily in your ear, “You never have to worry about anyone breaking you. I’ll keep you whole.” 

And in this moment, laying in his arms, despite all of your fears and concerns, you know that’s the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> And especially for reading this far. Can't tell you how much it means.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the effects of the Mark start to catch up with Dean, the reader's painful past continues to catch up with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!! I've missed you.
> 
> Sorry it's been a few days since I posted anything, I had a lot going on with the holidays and now I'm super sick so that's been a bit of a distraction.
> 
> BUT here I am with another chapter. Just a heads up: this chapter discusses things from episodes 21 and 22 of Season 9, so it's kind of important that you remember what happens in those. I've tweaked it a bit because for my story, Abaddon is already dead and I really only wanted to address the Metatron/Castiel's angel army/general angel crap. I think (hope) it's pretty clear in the story but I just wanted to give a heads up anyway!
> 
> Thanks for the patience, and as always, please enjoy!

You wake up suddenly, and immediately notice the lack of body heat behind you. The room is dark, and you glance briefly at the clock to see that it’s 3:00AM.

You turn to search for Dean in the darkness, and notice a figure sitting, hunched at the end of the bed. You can tell it’s Dean, but his figure is completely dark – except for one dull, orange glowing light.

On his arm.

He clutches the Mark on his arm as if it’s burning him.

You sit up, and make your way toward the end of the bed.

“Dean?” You whisper. No response.

You reach your hand out and place it gently on his shoulder, “Dean-"

He jumps suddenly at the feeling of your touch, and you pull your hand back.

“Hey, hey,” You say quickly. “Are you okay?” You slowly put your hand back on his shoulder as he looks at you, and you see an almost panic in his eyes before he finally focuses them on you.

He smiles slightly, but you can see that it’s forced.

“Yeah, yeah Sweetheart I’m fine. Just… just couldn’t sleep.”

When he looks at you, as hard as he tries to mask it, you can see the concern in his eyes as he continues to clutch the Mark on his arm. You look down at his arm and his jaw clenches and you see his body tense up.

Slowly, you reach down and lay your hand on top of his. You pull his hand off of his arm, and he doesn’t fight you. You don’t show it, but your heart jumps to your throat when his hand moves and you see the Mark glowing very faintly. You swallow hard and bring your fingers over the Mark, hovering less than an inch above it. His body tenses up even more, but you go on, bringing your fingers down and running them along the Mark tenderly.

Almost immediately, the Mark stops glowing and his body relaxes. He closes his eyes and breathes in slowly and deeply, and you feel the tension slowly leaving his body. You run your hand from the Mark up his arm, over his chest, and up to the side of his face, your thumb caressing his cheek gently.

He looks into your eyes and neither of you say anything, but you feel all of his fear. You kiss him with all the passion you have, telling him that you love him and that you’re there for him without saying anything at all.

And when you pull back, you can see that he heard you. He relaxes further, and you can see your Dean returning.

“Come back to bed.” You breathe.

The two of you crawl back into the bed, and you lay your head on his chest, your hand on his ribs, your thumb stroking his side. He wraps his arm around your side and grips you tightly, as if holding on to you is the one thing that will keep him together right now.

You continue rubbing him, calming him down until you feel his breathing become slower and more steady, and you know he’s finally fallen back asleep. You look up at him and study his sleeping face, and you feel your own concern blooming in your chest. You know how afraid he is of what this Mark is doing to him. You know what he had been like before you met them. Sam told you. How he thought he was losing his brother, and you brought him back. But you’d be naïve to think you alone would be able to help him fight the Mark forever. It’s too powerful, and deep down, you think you’ve all known that.

But you will never stop fighting for him. Whatever it takes, whatever you need to do to save him, you’ll do it. You know he’s scared, but you also know who he is.

And you’ll be here to remind him of that even when he starts to forget.

You wake up in the morning, and once again you’re alone in Dean’s bed. You get up and head to your room to grab a pair of shorts, but you leave Dean’s t-shirt on. As you head to the kitchen, the smell of coffee and bacon fills your nostrils.

You turn the corner and see Sam already seated at the kitchen table and Dean cooking bacon and eggs on the stove. He turns around and sees you and his eyes light up.

“Mornin’, gorgeous.” He drawls as he hands you a mug of coffee. You’re a little surprised by how chipper he is after what happened last night, but you’re definitely not complaining.

“Good morning.” You smile at him as you take your coffee and then sit down across from Sam.

“Someone’s in a good mood.” You say to Sam as Dean hums a Zeppelin song and continues cooking.

“Yeah,” Sam chuckles, “He’s kinda freaking me out.”

You don’t say it, but you know why Dean’s acting this way. As much as you want to believe he’s just in this good of a mood, part of you knows he’s trying to make up for last night. To show you, and Sam, and especially himself that he’s okay. That he’s still normal.

That he’s still Dean.

He comes up behind you and places a plate of bacon and eggs in front of you, kissing your cheek from behind as he does.

Then, he brings a plate over for himself and for Sam and he sits down next to you, still humming.

He starts to dig in to his food, and it’s then that he looks up and realizes that you and Sam are staring at him, eyebrows raised.

“What?” He mumbles out around a mouthful of food.

“Dude,” Sam laughs, “You’re in an extremely good mood today. Like, too good.”

Dean furrows his brows and swallows his food.

“Well, did you ever stop to think that maybe I AM good, Sam? What’s that a crime?”

Sam raises his hands in surrender and chuckles. “No, no…. that’s great.” With that, he begins eating his own breakfast.

“Yeah…” Dean says. “Yeah, good. Because I am good. So leave me alone.” He looks at you, his eyes connecting with yours briefly, and you can see the insecurity in them. You know exactly what it feels like to try and convince everyone you’re fine when you’re not. And you can spot when Dean is doing it from a mile away.

Still, you let it go for right now. If having breakfast together and humming his favorite songs is going to make him feel better in this moment, then you fully support it. You smile at him before digging into your own food as well.

Suddenly, Dean’s cell rings. You look down at it on the table and see Cass’ name pop up. When Dean sees that, he looks at you, almost as if he’s afraid to answer it.

You chuckle. “Answer it, Dean. There are much bigger problems going on right now than my grudge against the angel. It could be important.”

He smiles and nods at you, impressed by your maturity, and picks up the phone.

“Yeah, Cass, what is it?”

There’s silence as Cass speaks on the other end.

“Okay.” Dean answers. “Uh-huh.”

More silence.

“Yeah, yeah, okay Cass. Yeah, I get it. We’ll be there.” He hangs up the phone.

You and Sam look on in anticipation, and Dean sighs.

“Cass says they may be closing in on Metatron. Apparently, him and his angel army caught one of the dicks from Metatron’s inner circle. And they’ve had no help getting any info out of him, so…”

“So he wants us to help rough the guy up for information.” Sam says.

“Yup.” Dean answers.

You and Sam instinctively look at each other, and it’s in this second that you realize Sam is just as worried about his brother as you are. Sam knows him better than anyone does, so if you’ve noticed him acting different again, then of course Sam has too. Neither of you say anything, you don’t have to. You’re both expressing your concern without words.

Sam clears his throat. “Uh, Dean… maybe I should handle this one alone. You can stay here with Y/N and I can go help Cass.”

“He asked for both of us.” Dean answers. “Besides, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but knockin’ guys around for information, kinda my specialty.”

“Yeah, but Dean… with the Mark…” Sam trails off.

“I told you I’m good, Sammy. Alright?” He looks at you and softens slightly when he sees your concerned eyes. “I’m gonna go get some stuff together.” He gets up and heads out of the room, and you Sam just look at each other again.

“You see it, too, don’t you?” He asks you quietly.

You nod subtly. “He was up in the middle of the night last night, Sam. The Mark was... glowing. Torturing an angel… it could be bad.”

“I know.” Sam says. “But… I’m gonna go with him. We’ll figure out some other way besides torture.”

“Maybe… maybe I should go, too. I’m not exactly thrilled at the idea of seeing Cass, but I could help. With everything.”

Sam reaches out and places a hand on your arm. “No, Y/N. It’s not safe for you. We can handle this. We’ll be okay.”

You smile slightly and pat Sam’s hand. “You better be.”

With that, you stand and head to Dean’s room. He’s in there packing a bag, and you can see by the look on his face that his mind is somewhere else.

“Hey there, hot stuff.” You say as you step into the room.

He turns to you, looks you up and down, and grins.

“Well, hello there.” He croons.

You walk up to him and he wraps his arms around your waist and kisses you.

“Mmmm,” He mutters, “I do not wanna leave you.”

“Yeah, well… duty calls.” You respond with a smirk, patting him on the chest.

It’s then that he notices the concern on your face once again.

“Hey, I’m fine.” He says, “Last night… I just had a bad dream, that’s all. Couldn’t sleep. Nothin’ more than that.”

You just look at him, knowing that you both know you can see right through him.

He sighs. “Look, I’m good, Sweetheart. You gotta trust me.” He places his hand gently on the side of your face and looks deeply into your eyes. “I’m good.”

And even though you don’t believe him entirely, you know you have no choice but to trust him. You can’t make him stay, and you can’t control him. You’d kick his ass if he tried to do that to you.

“Please,” You beg, “just be careful.”

“Oh, look at that,” He rasps with a smirk. “The most reckless, bad ass girl I know tellin’ me to be careful. Ain’t that ironic.”

You smirk back at him. “Well, I’m tougher than you. So I don’t need to be as careful as you.”

He chuckles. “Don’t I know it.” He kisses you again, and this one lingers much longer as he tangles his hand in your hair and his lips move with yours.

He pulls away and you head out of his room together, and meet Sam in the map room.

You say your goodbyes and hug Sam, and as you pull away from the hug you give each other a knowing look, his eyes promising you once more that he’ll make sure Dean is okay. And to be fair, that’s what he’s done his entire life. So of course you trust him.

“Hey, kick the angel in the nuts for me when you see him.” You grumble, and they both laugh at that. Dean kisses you once more before the two of them head up the stairs.

As he’s heading out the door, Dean turns to you and calls, “We’ll be back, Sweetheart. Stay beautiful.”

You roll your eyes and wave him off and he winks before closing the door behind him.

You’d be lying if you said this didn’t bum you out at all. The idea of “laying low” didn’t sound so bad when you thought you’d get to have drunken movie nights with the boys and plenty more shower sex with Dean.

Instead, you’re here alone and you’re already going stir crazy knowing they’re on a hunt out there, a big one, and you can’t even help. You hate missing a chance to kick some ass. For a few moments, you consider checking if there are any hunts nearby. Just a simple vamp or a werewolf, something to keep you busy and allow you to let off some steam.

But you begrudgingly decide against it. As badly as you want to kick some monster ass, you know you need to stay in the bunker. Stay low. At least for now.  
You spend the rest of the day exploring parts of the bunker you haven’t yet. You go into the gym and play around with the equipment. But that doesn’t last very long. You hate exercise. You typically get yours by beating up the bad guys, not running on a treadmill. After that, you head up to the garage and take a closer look at the cars and motorcycles. You’d love to take one for a joy ride. Imagining cruising around with Dean in any one of them brings a smile to your face.

God damn, he really has made you soft.

That night, you sleep okay for a while but you’re just too antsy to stay in bed too long. You’re constantly wondering how the hunt’s going and how the boys are doing. Eventually, you get up, make yourself some breakfast, and try to figure out how to get through yet another day of nothingness.

Desperate for a distraction, you turn to cleaning the bunker. That’s how you KNOW you’re bored. You hate cleaning. Never in your life did you think you would do a man’s laundry. Let alone two men. Yet here you are doing the boys’ laundry and straightening up all the rooms. You even clean out the fridge. Which truthfully, is scarier than any monster you might have hunted anyway.

You head into the library for a quick break from cleaning and sit down with one of the books, when your phone rings in your pocket. You answer it with a smirk.

“Miss me yet?” You tease.

“Every damn second, darlin’.” Dean drawls from the other end.

“How’s it going?” You ask.

“Ah, it’s fine.” He answers. “You should see the way these angels follow Cass around. I mean, they literally call him ‘commander’.”

You want to laugh at that, but you’re still so angry at Cass that you can’t. Without him saying anything, you can tell Dean senses this, so he continues.

“We got some info from the geeky little angel that Cass captured. We didn’t even need to knock the information out of him, he let it all spill on his own.”

Relief washes over you knowing that Dean didn’t need to torture anyone.

“Good.” You answer. “And now?”

“Now,” He goes on, “Cass and Sam are off lookin’ for the door to Heaven, and I’m here trying to figure out why some of angels are goin’ all kamikaze and blowing themselves up in public places.”

“What?” You ask, surprised. “That’s… that’s wild.”

“Yeah, you’re tellin’ me. But I think I know who one of the next bombers might be. I’m on my way now to go stop her before she pops her top and takes out some innocent people. I just, uh… just wanted to hear that voice for a few minutes and make sure you’re doin’ alright.”

You realize that talking to you right now may be the only thing keeping Dean grounded before he goes after this angel.

In a soothing tone, you answer “I am doing just fine, Dean. Bored out of my mind, but fine. It’s good to hear your voice, too.”

As badly as you want to, you don’t ask if he’s used the Blade. Or if he plans to.

“Just… be careful, okay? If you get blown up, I’ll kill you.” You say.

He chuckles. “Got it. Don’t worry, Sweetheart. I’ll come back to you with all parts still intact.” You hear the suggestive tone in his voice when he says “all parts”, and it brings a smile to your face.

“I’ll talk to you soon, alright gorgeous?”

“Alright, Winchester. Be safe.”

With that, you both hang up the phone. You have complete faith in him as a hunter. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t still worried about him. It kills you that there’s nothing more you can do right now but wait. You clean a few more of the rooms to distract yourself, but after about another hour you just can’t do it anymore.

By the end of the night, you’re actually tired from all the cleaning. You decide to rest up, have a drink, and binge some TV for a while. After a couple episodes of your favorite show, you head to the kitchen to grab yourself another beer.

You’re casually walking through the library, about to head back down the hall, when suddenly – 

“There you are.” You hear from behind you.

You spin your body around to face the source of those words, and your heart drops to your stomach when you see who’s behind you.

You don’t know his name. You never knew his name. But you recognize his face. He’s tall and muscular, with sharp features. He has dark hair and even darker eyes.

“Do you remember me?” He taunts.

You remember. You remember seeing him almost as often as you saw Alastair in that basement. You remember him helping Alastair hit you, slice you up, and hold you down. You remember most of those bruises on your neck coming from him. You remember him above you, squeezing your throat until you were barely conscious, then letting go just long enough to allow you to gasp for air before tightening his grip again.

Your hand unconsciously reaches up to touch your neck, which elicits a sick grin from him.

“Ah, so you do remember me.” He croons.

You remove your hand from your throat and stand up a little straighter, trying not to show him any weakness.

“I remember. Alastair’s right hand man."

He grins at that, but then you smirk at him.

"Or, should I say Alastair's lap dog?” You mock. You can tell by his face that that's offended him, and you go on. “And yet, in all that time we were never formally acquainted. How sad.”

He chuckles. “Well, my name is Andras. Never gave you my name before because I didn’t think you’d need it. Didn’t think you’d live.”

“Well,” You narrow your eyes at him. “Surprise.”

“Surprise indeed. I really thought Alastair would get the job done.” He responds.

“Let me guess.” You spit. “You’re here to get it done now.”

He grins again. “Smart and beautiful.” He looks your body up and down. “The total package.”

He takes a step toward you and licks his lips. “A package I remember being very fun to unwrap.”

That makes you feel sick, and you take a step back from him. How did you end up in a situation like this again? Once again, caught off guard. With no weapons on you.

“I thought I was gonna have to come in here and scoop you up to get you away from the Winchesters.” He looks around the big room happily. “But… I see they aren’t even here. Just you and I. That means the fun can start right now.” He takes another step toward you.

Instantly, you’re going through your options in your head, trying to remember where specific weapons are in the bunker. You know you have a few in your room, but the likelihood of you making it all the way down the hall away from him right now isn’t very good. You don’t have clear shot to the stairs, and the likelihood of you making it all the way up the stairs without him catching you is even worse. That leaves you with what’s left in your immediate surroundings. There’s an open beer in your hand and you know there’s a pistol underneath the library table behind you. It won’t kill him, but maybe it’ll be enough to buy you some time.

In a flash, you toss your beer bottle at him as hard as you can to distract him and lunge to reach for the gun under the table. He swats the bottle away with ease and as you turn around to aim, he flicks his wrist and the gun flies from your hand across the room.

He steps forward and slaps you across the face with the back of his hand, instantly drawing blood from your lip. Your head snaps to the side and before you can react, he grabs you by the throat and throws you down hard onto the floor. All the air leaves your body at the impact and you gasp out in pain.

You try to lift yourself up, but he kicks you hard in the stomach over and over until you’re choking on the blood in your mouth. You try to get up again, but he punches and kicks you hard in the face a few times until you’re lying on your back, blinking your eyes, desperately trying to remain conscious through the vicious beating he’s giving you.

He stands over you and stomps down on your stomach a few more times, and you grunt out in pain before turning your head to spit out another mouthful of blood.

“Damn,” You cough out a sarcastic chuckle around the blood, “those broken ribs… were finally healing.”

He looks down at you and leans down slightly. “I am going to re-break every bone and re-open every cut and then some.” He grins and leans down a little more and whispers. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging for it to end.”

You laugh up at him. “Yeah, buddy, that’s what they all say.” Then, with all the strength you have you bring your foot up and kick him as hard as you can in the groin. It may be a cheap shot, but even demons feel it when you kick them in the balls.

He doubles over in shock and pain, and you take that split second to force yourself onto your feet and to stagger down the hall to your bedroom. You slam the door shut and lock it, pulling a chair up under the door handle and a line of salt down under the door. It won’t last long, but it may be enough time for you to find some weapons. Once the door is secure, all of your pain hits you at once and you realize you can barely stand and you feel incredibly dizzy. You reach up and touch your forehead and realize there’s a pretty big gash from where he kicked you in the head. You squeeze your eyes closed once to steady yourself, and when you open them you see your cell phone on the dresser.

Dean.

You grab the phone and dial his number as you begin digging in your drawers for something to defend yourself with.

Dean picks up the phone after only one ring.

“Hey there, Sweetheart. Sammy and I are on our way back now-"

“Dean.” You huff.

The tone of his voice instantly changes from flirty to concerned when he hears you.

“Y/N? What’s going on?”

“One of Alastair’s demons.” You wheeze. “He’s here. In the bunker. To finish the job.”

“What?!” He asks in a panic. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

Suddenly, you hear a loud thud on the door, and the whole door shakes.

“Shit.” You mumble. “Uh… uh… he attacked me but I got away from him. I’m in my bedroom. Salt under the door but it’s not gonna last. I’m looking for weapons…” You’re digging through your drawers erratically.

“Fuck!” Dean shouts over the phone. “Did he hurt you? Did he touch you, are you okay?”

“I, uh…” You look down at your battered body and then look in the mirror at your face. Your stomach drops when you see how bad you really look. Yet again.

“Y/N! Did he hurt you?” Dean pushes. You instantly want to downplay how bad it is. Freaking Dean out even more won’t do anything to help the situation.

“Well, I’ve been better.” You pant, trying to mask the pain in your voice. “But… I’m okay.” You don’t tell him what you’re really worried about, which is how difficult you know it will be to take this demon on in your current state, weapon or no.

You breathe out in a small bit of relief when you finally find what you’ve been looking for. You pull out a flask of holy water, an angel blade, and a pair of demon cuffs and put them all on top of the dresser.

There’s another loud THUD on the door, and this time Dean hears it over the phone.

“Shit! Y/N!” He shouts again.

“I don’t have much time, Dean. Just… get your fine ass back here, okay?” You laugh slightly, trying to hide the fear in your voice. “And… and I love you.”

“No, no, no, no, Y/N! You stay on the line with me. You hear me? Don’t do that. Don’t do that ‘I love you and goodbye’ crap, okay? You gotta hold on. We’ll be right there. We’ll be right there, Sweetheart. Please.” His voice breaks on that last ‘please’.

The door thuds once more and you see the salt line shaking. You know it’ll only be seconds until he’s busting in the room. You shove the flask of holy water and the cuffs in the back pockets of your jeans and take the blade in your hand.

“Dean…” You whisper.

“Y/N-"

You hear all the fear and desperation in his voice as he says your name and just then the door bursts open, the salt flies everywhere, and the demon steps into the room with a grin.

Still tightly gripping the phone with one hand, you run at him, gripping the blade with the other. You swing the blade at him and he ducks, but you bring it back down and slice him across the cheek and he growls out in pain. You swing it again, but this time he waves his hand and it flies out of your hand across the room.

You try to reach for the holy water in your pocket but before you can, he punches you in the cheek and knocks you to the ground. You grunt out in pain as you fall to the ground and the phone falls from your hand.

The demon chuckles as he kicks you in the stomach and you grunt out again and blink your eyes in a daze, holding on to your consciousness by a thread. He leans down, picks up the phone, and brings it to his ear.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. You just keep leaving your pretty little girlfriend alone, Dean.” He hums into the phone.

“You listen to me, you son of a bitch. I’m on my way there right now. And I promise you, I am going to rip you to fucking pieces when I get there.”

The demon just chuckles. “No, Dean-o, you listen to me. Or better yet, listen to her.”

He kicks you once more and you groan out and gasp for air.

“God damn it!” Dean growls through the phone.

The demon goes on, “Y/N and I are going to have just a bit more fun here. And then, I’m taking her away. Just like Alastair did. Tell me, Dean, what do you think is the likelihood of finding her a second time when you almost didn’t find her the first time?”

With that, he hangs up the phone and throws it against the wall. He reaches down, grabs you by the hair, and pulls you up to your feet. You wince and grunt at the pain and once again try to reach for the holy water in your pocket, but he slaps you again and throws you down onto the bed.

He climbs on top of you, his legs straddling you and keeping you pinned, and wraps his hands around your throat, instantly squeezing so hard that all of your oxygen is completely cut off.

Suddenly desperate for air, your hands fly up to claw at his, trying to pull them off of your throat. He just licks his lips and grins down at you.

“Boy, did I miss this view.”

Dean POV

The tension between him and Sam right now is intense. He promised Sam he would leave the Blade out of this angel shit, and now he’s accidentally used it to kill Tessa. He didn’t mean to, truly he didn’t. And yet, the way it made him feel…

He’s not an idiot. He knows Sam can sense it. Every time he uses that Blade, it makes him just a little darker. A little angrier. A little less like himself.

The angels have stopped following Cass. Cass is off alone yet again. He knew he couldn’t come back to the bunker yet, he doesn’t want to upset you by being around. Maybe after a little more time, but not yet.

And now, Sam and Dean are climbing into the Impala to drive back to you. Dean would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t nervous to see you. He knows Sam is going to tell you what he did with the Blade. More importantly, he knows you’re going to see it in him. The darkness that’s grown just a bit more since you last saw him. He knows that no matter how hard he tries, he can’t hide that from you. Not you.

As he and Sam are pulling onto the highway, his phone rings. He looks down to see your name, and despite everything he’s feeling, it still makes him smile. He decides that despite the tension between him and Sam, he’s going to do his best to sound like everything is just fine. No reason to worry you. At least not yet.

“Hey there, Sweetheart. Sammy and I are on our way back now-"

You cut him off, and he can tell by the tone of your voice that something is very wrong.

“Y/N? What’s going on?”

As soon as Sam hears the concern in his brother’s voice, his eyes go wide and he stares at Dean, waiting to hear what’s going on. Dean looks at Sam, and puts the phone on speaker.

You tell him there’s a demon there. After you. Again. And again he isn’t there to protect you.

“What?!” He asks in a panic. He instantly presses down on the gas, flying down the road. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

You tell him you’ve barricaded yourself in your room, which he knows means you’re completely trapped. He knows you can take care of yourself. That you can kick ass. And he doesn’t want to underestimate you again. He’s learned that lesson a few times.

But this time, he can hear in your voice how weak you sound. And he can tell it’s gotta be bad for you to sound this pained, and this panicked.

“Fuck! Did he hurt you? Did he touch you, are you okay?”

You don’t answer him right away. And he knows that’s a bad sign.

“Y/N! Did he hurt you?”

You tell him you’re okay. He hears you saying the words, but he’s heard you say those words plenty of times when they weren’t true. And he knows this is one of them.

Suddenly, he hears a thud against the door.

“Shit! Y/N!” He shouts again.

Then, you tell him you love him. And as much as he can tell you’re trying to hide it, he knows that you’re saying it just in case it’s the last time you ever get to. And he refuses to accept that.

“No, no, no, no, Y/N! You stay on the line with me. You hear me? Don’t do that. Don’t do that ‘I love you and goodbye’ crap, okay? You gotta hold on. We’ll be right there. We’ll be right there, Sweetheart. Please.”

He feels his voice crack, he and Sam exchange panicked glances, and he feels so helpless that he wants to scream.

He hears the door thud once more, and then he hears you whisper his name once more, and it makes his heart seize in his chest.

“Y/N-"

Suddenly, he hears the door burst open and for a few seconds, only the sound of scuffling. Grunts and shouting from both you and the demon.

“Come on, come on…” He mumbles nervously. “Y/N!”

Then, he hears a body hit the ground. And when he hears your breathless pants and groans, he knows it’s yours.

“No! Y/N!”

For a few seconds, he hears only silence. Then, the sound of breathing on the other end of the phone. Then, the demon speaking. Taunting him. Overwhelming rage bubbles in his chest and he squeezes the phone tightly.

“You listen to me, you son of a bitch. I’m on my way there right now. And I promise you, I am going to rip you to fucking pieces when I get there.”

The demon just laughs at him, mocks him, and then hurts you again. His rage only increases when he hears you grunt out once again in pain.

“God damn it!”

Then, the demon makes sure Dean knows everything he plans to do. And Dean feels sick. And then, the demon says the thing Dean’s been worrying about most since this call started.

“Tell me, Dean, what do you think is the likelihood of finding her a second time when you almost didn’t find her the first time?”

Click.

He feels like his blood has turned to ice in his veins. He and Sam exchange terrified looks, both of them knowing that all they can do right now is get back to you. As quickly as possible. His jaw quivers as he continues pressing down on the gas. He can’t lose you again. Not again.

You’re the only thing keeping him from losing himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to leave ya hanging, sorry!!!
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH for reading!


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will the boys make it back to the bunker in time to save the reader?

Your lungs feel like they’re going to burst out of your chest, your ears are ringing, and your vision is beginning to blur.

You’re coughing and gagging and clawing, and yet the demon’s grip remains strong around your throat as he grins down and watches you struggle. All you can think about are the boys. Their faces. Their smiles. The fact that you might never see them again.

You might never see Dean again.

Then, almost like a miracle, through your hazy consciousness, you suddenly remember the demon blade you started stashing under your pillow after everything that happened to you. The blade that helped just a little bit with the nightmares, knowing you had a weapon to grab onto every time you woke up screaming in the night. You’ve been sleeping so comfortably with Dean lately, you had completely forgotten it was there.

Just as your struggling begins to fade, you use every last ounce of remaining energy to reach your hand under your pillow, grip the knife, and in one swift movement, plunge it into his leg. He shrieks in pain and releases your throat to grab at his leg, and you fling yourself out from underneath him, off of the bed, and onto the floor. You grab your throat and cough for a few seconds, desperately sucking as much air into your lungs as possible.

As soon as you get some oxygen, you force yourself to your feet, reach for the flask of holy water in your pocket, and dump it all over him as he continues to clutch his leg. He cries out again as his skin begins to burn and with all the remaining strength you have, you take the cuffs from your pocket and snap them onto his wrists in his distracted state.

He looks at you in shock when he realizes how powerless the cuffs have made him, and you just smile as you rip the knife from his leg, eliciting another cry of pain from him, and hold it against his throat.

He smiles, but remains still as you continue to press the knife against his throat. He licks his lips and sneers, “Now I see why Alastair always said you were his favorite. So feisty. But do you really think you have the strength to kill me right now? I mean…” He looks you up and down lasciviously, clearly satisfied with how badly he’s beaten you up, “you look like you can barely stay upright in your condition.”

You scoff at him, and the sharp exhale sends a shooting pain through your ribs, but you don’t let him see that. You press the knife even harder against his throat, and you see him swallow hard as he tries to mask his fear.

You lean forward, narrow your eyes at him, and whisper with a grin, “I have the strength to do so much more than kill you.”

With that, you use the butt of the knife to punch him directly in the nose. He reels back, and you punch him again. He crumples over and falls to the floor, and you begin kicking him over and over again. Then, you drop to the ground on top of him, your legs straddling his chest, and you grab a handful of his hair to hold his head steady. You drag the knife across his face agonizingly slowly a few times, until he’s crying out in pain.

Then, you stand up, lean over him, put your hands on your knees, and smile down at him.

“By the time I’M done with YOU, you’ll be the one begging for it to end, you son of a bitch.”

You kick him a few more times and he continues to cry out and groan until he loses consciousness and he’s bleeding all over the floor.

You glare down at him, knife still in hand, your chest heaving. As your adrenaline fades, your pain returns, and so does the dizziness. You blink slowly a few times, and stumble to the side, catching yourself against the wall.

You blink a few more times and take a few more painful breaths, reminding yourself that you’ve come this far and you’re not done with him yet. Slowly, you stand yourself back up again.

It takes you a long time, but you manage to drag him into the dungeon and cuff him in the chair inside the Devil’s Trap. Once he’s finally secure there, you stumble backwards against the wall. You’re breathing is shallow, and the pain in your face, ribs, and throat resonates through your whole body. You reach up and feel the still-bleeding wound on your head, and in the same second you hear the door to the bunker slamming shut.

“Y/N!” Dean’s voice is so loud and deep that you can clearly hear him bellowing before he’s even down the stairs.

You push yourself off the wall of the dungeon and make your way to the doorway, and you hear him bellowing your name again. You stumble out of the dungeon and begin to walk down the hall, and you see both boys rounding the corner on the other end, their faces panic-stricken.

As soon as Dean sees you, his eyes go wide and he huffs, “Shit!” as he sprints even more quickly down the hall until he reaches you, with Sam right behind him.

They both stop in front of you, looking at you in amazement for a few brief seconds.

You grin slightly as you look at them. “Howdy, boys.”

Dean’s bright green eyes look you up and down, and he grabs your face in his hands so that he can look into your eyes. His face is so overwhelmingly relieved that he looks like he might cry, and although he can see you’re hurt, he can’t stop his lips from crashing into yours.

He kisses you fervently and desperately for a few seconds, and you can feel by the electricity behind the kiss that he thought he might never get to again.

He pulls back and his eyes are still flooded with relief, but at the same time are brimming with fear and concern as he looks at the blood all over you.

“Hey, hey, are you okay? You okay?” He looks you up and down once more, and you can tell you must look terrible by the looks on both his and Sam’s face.

“I’m okay.” You grumble. You look at Sam and then back to Dean, putting your hands on his hands and looking deep into his eyes. “I’m okay.”

“What the hell did he do, huh? What the hell happened?” Dean asks urgently.

“He said he was here to finish the job.” You breathe.

“How did you…” Sam asks in disbelief. By the way the phone call sounded, they were both so certain that this demon had completely overpowered you.

“Had a knife… under my pillow.” You wheeze.

They both stiffen up and clench their jaws.

“Your…pillow.” Dean mutters.

“Yeah. He, uh… He busted into my room, threw me on the bed…” You see the panic and anger once again rising on Dean’s face. You can’t see it yet under the sleeve of his flannel, but the Mark begins to glow on his arm.

“But, nothing happened.” You reassure. “Grabbed the knife before it could.”

“And he was one of Alastair’s guys?” Sam asks. “You remembered him?”

“Oh… I remember.” You say as you move your hair behind your shoulder and the boys see the newly-formed fingerprint bruises on your neck. Just like the ones you had when they first got you back.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean growls, and now you suddenly see the glow of the Mark under his sleeve.

Sam just swallows hard as he looks at your neck. “I hope you made him suffer before he died.”

“He’s not dead.” You say.

Both boys look at you in surprise.

“I didn’t kill him.” You state. “I could have, don’t get me wrong. But I didn’t. He’s in the dungeon.”

Suddenly, Dean’s eyes go dark, the Mark glows even brighter, and he stomps past you, toward the dungeon.

“Dean! Wait!” You call after him. You look at Sam in a panic and he looks back at you. You know in this moment something else must have happened while they were gone by the way Sam is looking at you.

The two of you chase Dean into the dungeon to find him already wailing on the demon.

“What’d I tell you, huh?” He growls at the hardly conscious demon through a clenched jaw as he hits him again. “I told you I’d rip you to fucking pieces, you son of a bitch.” He hits him again.

“Dean!” You shout. But Dean just continues punching the demon, as if he can’t even hear you yelling at him.

He wraps one hand firmly around the demon’s throat and begins to squeeze, staring intently at his face.

“How about I leave marks all over your neck, huh? See how you fucking like it.” He snarls through gritted teeth.

You step forward and grab him as you shout his name again. He instantly freezes, lets go of the demon, and looks at you almost surprised, as if he hadn’t even realized what he was doing until your touch brought him back to reality.

“Dean,” You whisper, looking deeply into his eyes, “Stop. You can’t kill him. Not right now. We need him.”

Dean looks back to the demon’s bloody face, then at his blood-covered knuckles, then back to you.

“I’m sorry.” He looks you up and down, and realizes he was so concerned about beating the hell out of this demon that he hasn’t even gotten a chance to look more closely at your wounds.

“I’m sorry.” He repeats again, sounding ashamed. He steps away from the demon and closer to you, looking you up and down once again.

“Y/N…” He breathes as he gets a good look at the wound on your forehead for the first time. He looks at Sam in concern and Sam shares his expression.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” You grumble. “It’s ‘look at Y/N with big puppy dog eyes for the next few hours and worry about whether or not she’s okay’ time.”

Sam laughs slightly. “No, it’s ‘look at Y/N in amazement because we’re once again surprised she’s still standing’ time.”

You grin at him slightly.

“And,” Dean says, “it’s ‘stitch Y/N up because she’s got a nasty gash on her head’ time. So let’s go.”

He puts a hand gently on your back and the two of them help you limp down the hall and out into the library. They seat you on one of the tables and Dean runs to the infirmary to get some supplies.

As soon as he’s gone, you look at Sam. “What the hell happened, Sam?”

Sam just stares at you guiltily. “He promised me he wouldn’t use the blade. But-"

“But what?” You demand.

“But while I was gone with Cass, he used it. He only meant to use it to threaten Tessa, the angel. But he says she walked right into it. Wanted to die.”

“Do you believe him?” You ask.

“I… I don’t know. I think so.” He mutters. “Either way, killing her with that blade… it affected him. He’s trying to hide it, I can tell, but…” He trails off, and you just swallow hard.

Just then, Dean returns with the supplies and with a fresh bottle of whiskey.

That’s your man.

He hands you the whiskey and you take a large swig as Dean begins to clean the blood from the wound on your forehead. You wince at the touch, but he continues.

“Holy crap…” He mumbles as he and Sam both get a look at how deep the cut is. “What, did he slice your face up with a knife, too?”

“Nope.” You rasp. You realize how sore your throat is from being strangled, and you can tell the boys notice it, too. “Guess his boot just connected in the perfect place to split my head open.”

Both boys exchange glances and swallow hard, and Dean begins stitching it up. Once he’s done with that, he cleans out the many other wounds on your face. Your split lip, swollen cheeks, bloody nose. Once he’s done cleaning them, he hands you some ice to hold on the bruises.

The coldness of the ice makes you inhale sharply, and when you do that you wince and grunt as the pain in your ribs intensifies. The boys exchange glances again, and then look back to you, both of them silently willing you to lift your shirt so they can see the extent of the wounds you were clearly trying to hide.

You groan, but you don’t fight them. You just take another swig of whiskey before slowly lifting your t-shirt, revealing your shockingly bruised stomach and sides.

Dean closes his eyes and clenches his jaw at the sight, and Sam just looks up and runs a palm down his face.

“Oh, the drama.” You mutter hoarsely, before taking another sip.

“Jesus, Y/N.” Sam breathes. “I have never met anyone in my life that can take a beating the way you do.”

You swallow your sip of whiskey, wink at him, and whisper, “And you never will.”

“So after he did all this to you, you still managed to beat him to a bloody pulp and lock his ass down in the dungeon?” Dean asks.

You just nod and take another sip.

“God damn…” He breathes as his lips curl into a grin. “You continue to be the most kick ass woman I’ve ever met.”

You grin at him as he begins wrapping and icing your stomach. You wince slightly at the touch, but you can tell he’s trying so hard to be extra gentle with you right now. And you have to admit, you like the feeling of his fingertips brushing against your bare skin.

Once he’s done with that, you finally feel like you can relax, knowing they’re done fawning all over your wounds for now. And the ice and the whiskey are starting to dull the pain.

The three of you sit around the table and pass the bottle. They give you more details about Cass’ angel army and what they’ve found out, and you reluctantly give them more details about the demon and what happened with him.

“He told me his name is Andras.” You say. “He was basically Alastair’s right hand man.” You look down at the table briefly, then back up at them. “The son of a bitch tortured me almost as much as Alastair did.”

The boys both tense up and you can see the fury in their eyes.

You go on, “I wanted to kill him. I still do. But… I figure since he was basically second in command, he’ll probably know who the other demons are that are after me. And when they’re planning to strike. So we’ll be ready next time. And we can stop them.”

“No.” Dean mutters breathlessly as he stares at the bottle in his hand.

You and Sam both look at him, puzzled, and he goes on.

“No, that’s not enough.” He looks up at you and Sam, his gaze intense and dark.

“If he was there that often, had that much power, then he knows all of the demons.” He looks at you. “That tortured you.”

You swallow hard and he continues.

“And he is gonna tell us who they are. But we’re not gonna wait for them to come after you. We’re gonna go after those sons of bitches. We are going to take each and every last one of them down. And we’re gonna make them suffer.”

The intensity of his vivid green stare as he says this has your heart nearly beating out of your chest. Part of you knows that encouraging this rage isn’t good for Dean, and that has you conflicted. And you’re sure Sam is, too. You look briefly at Sam, and his eyes are just as intense and focused as Dean’s. He may be concerned too, but you can see he wants this revenge for you just as bad as Dean does.

You close your eyes and think about all the demons that tortured you. All of them who put their hands on you, tried to break you, made you suffer endlessly. All those demons who never thought you’d live to make them pay.

And when you open your eyes and look at Dean, the way he's looking back at you ignites a fire in your chest.

Dean leans forward and looks deeply into your eyes.

“I promised you, someday we would get you your revenge. Well, Sweetheart… someday’s here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA! Just kidding.
> 
> She doesn't need anyone to save her.
> 
> But it won't hurt to have a couple of Winchesters around to help with revenge.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader and the boys take the first steps toward getting revenge. But what will it cost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Sorry I haven't been posting as often. Work is always hectic and the holidays don't help with that. But I promise I am still completely invested in this story, and I hope you still are, too.
> 
> Because we have plenty of chaos left.

That night, you get some much needed rest in Dean’s arms. He holds you close to him all night long, savoring the fact that he gets to do it at all.

When you wake in the morning, your wounds are far more sore than they were the night before. You groan as you open your eyes, every little movement sending shooting pains and dull aches all over your body.

Dean wakes instantly at the sound of you in pain. He sits up slightly and looks you up and down with concern.

“You okay?”

“Peachy.” You groan. “Do I look as bad as I feel?”

He grins slightly. “Sweetheart, your face could be busted up beyond repair and you'd still turn me on.”

You chuckle. “Ooh, romantic. But not an answer."

He laughs as he brings his lips down to gently connect with yours. He pulls away and looks down at you.

"You look gorgeous, Gorgeous."

You smirk at that and he gets out of bed and starts to get dressed.

“You rest,” He says, “I’ll be back with some breakfast and some paid meds.”

You begin to sit up, “Dean, I’m fine I don’t need breakfast in be-"

He turns and points at you abruptly. “Hey. There was a time you said you liked it when I take control.”

His gaze is intense and his eyes are stern with just the slightest bit of playfulness behind them. He walks back toward you once again, “Well, here’s me takin’ control. You’re gonna keep your perfect ass in this bed, and I’m gonna take care of you, and you’re gonna let me. Do you understand me?”

You don’t respond right away, you can’t help but watch and be mesmerized by his lips as he speaks to you. He notices this, so he licks them and leans even closer to you.

“I said, do you understand me?”

The gravel in his tone makes your heart race. You return the intensity of his gaze, staring deeply into his mischievous green eyes.

“Yes, sir.” You whisper with a smirk.

He smirks back and stands up. “Good girl.” Then he turns to leave, and you admire his bow legs as he swaggers out of the room. You exhale slowly and lay back down in the bed, your body now buzzing from how easily he can turn you on.

After a few moments, Dean returns to your room with a tray full of breakfast, coffee, and some pain meds. You thank him, and the two of you eat breakfast together, playfully feeding each other and laughing at each other’s stupid jokes. Jokes that only the two of you would even understand.

You stare at him, thinking about how beautiful he is, especially when he’s laughing. The way he throws his head back in joy, the way he flashes each and every one of his bright white teeth, and especially the way his eyes crinkle in the corners as he grins. You think about how lucky you are to have him, and how much he means to you. And just how much you truly love him.

After breakfast, you eventually convince Dean that you don’t need to be bed ridden and you, Dean, and Sam convene in the library to decide how to approach the whole revenge plan. But truthfully, you all know what needs to come first.

The jackass in the dungeon needs to give up names.

“Alright.” Dean knocks on the table before standing up. “You two come up with a plan for once we get the names, I’m gonna go visit our pal in there and work on gettin' em.”

You and Sam exchange quick, concerned glances.

“Dean, wait.” Sam says.

Dean freezes and looks down at his brother, eyebrows raised.

“I… I don’t think you should go in there just yet. I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Sam mutters.

Dean raises his eyebrows even further and looks between Sam and you, almost offended.

“Why not?”

“You know why not.” You say.

He looks at you, surprised by the forcefulness in your tone.

“It’s not good for you, Dean.” You say. “Being in there alone with him, torturing him for hours on end, we don’t know what it will do to you.”

He rolls his eyes. “Ugh, we don’t have time for this!” He groans. “It’s not gonna do anything to me, alright? I can control myself, I’ll be fine!”

“We don’t know that, Dean!” Sam shouts.

“No, maybe WE don’t! But I do!” Dean yells back. “I’m not a freakin’ nuclear bomb, okay? I’m not gonna explode!”

You know him so well, you can see the insecurity through his words. You can see how desperately he’s trying to convince himself, as well as you and Sam.

“You nearly killed him yesterday! You could hardly control yourself then! Even then, it took Y/N pulling you off of him to get you to stop!” Sam barks back.

“Ah, Sam, come on! He had almost killed Y/N, my adrenaline was pumping! That’s all!”

“Yeah, well, that adrenaline is fueled by the Mark now, so who knows when it’s gonna take over again!”

“Jesus, enough!” You shout.

They both freeze and look at you. You sigh deeply.

“Dean, please.” You say, your eyes pleading with his. “Please, just wait. He’s not going anywhere. Let’s at least come up with a game plan. Maybe… maybe we can figure something else out. At least give us a chance to try.”

He sits back down, his tone softening. “Sweetheart, every second we wait is another second those bastards are out there without getting what they deserve.”

“I know.” You say. “But it’s my revenge. So I get to choose how we go about it. And I’m asking you to wait.”

He sighs. “Fine. Fine, I’ll wait.”

You can tell he’s not happy about it, and part of you can’t blame him. You know how badly he wants this revenge for you. And you want it so badly, too. But not if the price is his sanity.

The three of you spend the entire rest of the day brainstorming other ways to get the information. And ways to go after the demons once you do find out who they are.

And you come up with absolutely nothing.

Maybe the tension in the room is making it hard for the three of you to think straight, or maybe deep down you all just know that there’s really only one way to get this information.

But, you’re determined not to admit that yet. There’s always another way. There has to be. Even if you have to torture him yourself. You may not have been Alastair’s student, but you sure as Hell spent enough time at the other end of his blade to pick up a few of his tricks. You know the boys won’t like that idea, and truthfully, neither do you. As much as you’d love to rip him apart, you know that he remembers everything that he did to you. And everything he watched the others do to you. And that he’ll use it against you the whole time. And you don’t want to hear it. You don’t want to relive that.

Still, it’s an option. One that you have to keep in the back of your mind.

By the end of the night, the three of you are exhausted and still completely out of ideas. You head to take a shower to clear your mind and then change into a tank top and shorts. Sam must have gone to bed while you were doing that, because when you come back into the library Dean is seated alone at the table, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

You sit down across from him, and he’s staring down at the glass, his face pensive.

“Hey.” You whisper.

“Hey.” He answers, his eyes coming up to connect with yours.

“Cheer up.” You mutter with a smirk.

He smiles slightly and takes a sip of his whiskey, but doesn’t answer you, just looks back down at his glass.

You sigh. You know that in true Dean Winchester fashion, he’s blaming himself for the fact that you haven’t gotten the information you need from the demon yet. But right now, you don’t care about that. You care about him.

You stand up and walk around the table until you’re standing next to him, but he continues staring down at his glass. You place a hand on his chest and push him back in his chair, then place your other hand on his chest as well and use both to push him and his chair backwards away from the table. He looks up at you in surprise.

You look deep into his eyes with a playful smirk and lean down slightly.

“I said…” You slowly begin to sit down on his lap facing him, your legs straddling his and one hand still on his chest. With the other hand, you take the glass of whiskey from him, bring it to your lips, and finish it in one sip. You slam the glass back down on the table just as you’ve completely lowered yourself into his lap.

He watches you in wonder this entire time, and brings his bottom lip up in between his teeth when you take his glass from him and your lips brush the edge of the glass and you down the liquor like it's nothing. He places his hands on your bare thighs, gripping them tightly and feeling your smooth skin against his rough palms.

You watch his bright green eyes fill with desire while his thick eyelashes flick up and down as he takes in the sight of you in his lap, and you watch his tongue flick over his lips as you lean even closer, lick the whiskey from your lips, and whisper,

“Cheer up.”

He shakes his head slightly in awe, runs his hands up your thighs to grip your hips tightly, and whispers hoarsely,

“God damn, Sweetheart… the way you make me feel…”

He looks you up and down once more before quickly bringing one hand up, wrapping it around the back of your neck, and pulling you down for an urgent kiss. You place your hands on the back of his neck and kiss him back with just as much need.

You both open your mouths, your tongues dipping in and out and your lips moving together in desperation and want. The only sound is the two of you breathing heavily through your noses, neither one of you wanting to break the connection even to catch your breath. He holds you so tightly and you feel the heat from his palms as it seeps into your skin and courses through your body.

Eventually, the two of you break from the kiss and gasp for air, your chests heaving as you rest your foreheads against each other. He chuckles to himself breathlessly and you pull back to look at him.

“Whiskey tastes so much better when I’m tastin’ it on your lips.” He breathes with a grin.

You grin back down at him. “I could say the same to you, Winchester.”

You study his face intently, once again admiring how beautiful he is. In more ways than he’ll ever know.

He can see on your face how deep in thought you are. “What’s goin’ on in that head?” He asks.

“This… revenge.” You mutter. “I’m deciding if it’s worth it.”

He furrows his brows. “Worth it? Of course it’s worth it. Those fuckers deserve it. Everything you went through…” You see his eyes darken just at the thought.

“I know they deserve it.” You answer. “Trust me, I know. But…” You look down.

“But what?” He asks.

“Revenge isn’t worth losing you.” You look back up to him. “Nothing is.”

He tenses up right away, knowing instantly what you mean. But when he sees the fear in your eyes, he softens.

“Hey,” He whispers, placing his hand gently on your cheek. He studies your eyes carefully.

“You are not going to lose me.”

He can see that you’re still worried, so he leans closer and gives you that look that only the two of you share. The one that is always able to calm you instantly without a word.

“You are NOT going to lose me.” He says again, and this time you feel yourself relax slightly.

He continues looking deep into your eyes. “Sweetheart, listen to me. You’re not gonna lose me… because you will always be the one to bring me back. No matter what happens, no matter how bad I get, I know that. It’s always you. It’s always gonna be you.”

Your heart skips a beat. You can see in his eyes how completely he believes what he’s saying. And somehow, you believe it, too. You know - you have always known - that the two of you have a connection unlike any other. You can’t say that this Mark won’t take him over. You can’t say that he’ll be able to fight this darkness forever. But you can say that you will never give up on him. And that you will always be there, and do anything, to bring him back when he needs it.

You smile at him and kiss him once more, and the fire between the two of you fills your whole body all at once. When you pull back, he begins to stand suddenly. He grips you tightly as he does this and you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck in surprise.

He grins at you confidently and rasps, “Let’s go to bed, darlin’.”

You wake up, snuggled in the covers, and roll over to bury your face in Dean’s chest. But when you do, there’s no one there to bury into. You open your eyes slowly and realize that once again, you’re alone in Dean’s bed.

You’re really getting sick of that.

You check the clock and it says 6:00am, so you decide it might as well be time to get up. You get out of bed and wander the halls, wondering where Dean could possibly be. You check the showers, the library, and end up in the kitchen, where you see Sam drinking coffee and scrolling on his laptop.

“Hey, Sam.” You say. “Where’s Dean?”

Sam furrows his brows and looks up at you. “I thought he was still in bed with you.”

In that instant, realization hits the both of you.

The dungeon.

You both rush down the hall and all you can think about is how many hours Dean might have already had alone in that dungeon with the demon. You can’t remember him getting out of bed. He could have been in there all night long.

As you both race around the corner, shouting Dean’s name, you reach the dungeon and come face to face with the closed door. Your heart is pounding and you and Sam exchange panicked glances as he reaches for the handle.

But to your surprise, the door opens. Dean didn’t lock it. You and Sam rush in and see the tray of tools and devices, splattered and dripping with blood, next to Dean’s tall figure.

He’s facing away from you but you can tell by the movement of his shoulders how heavily he’s breathing.

Your heart is in your throat as you approach him slowly from behind, with Sam right behind you, and the closer you get the more blood you can see all over him. And you can see the unconscious – or possibly even dead - and blood-soaked demon sitting in front of him.

“Dean…” You whisper his name as you gently place your hand on his heaving shoulder. You hold your breath as you prepare for him to flinch or jump or maybe even push you away.

But he doesn’t.

He turns to you calmly, and his eyes instantly connect with yours.

And they’re not panicked. They’re not bloodshot or angry or anything other than their usual emerald green.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He whispers.

He turns around completely, placing a blood-coated knife down on the tray, and looks between you and Sam. You and Sam both look him up and down, studying him intently.

“Look, I know what you’re both gonna say. I shouldn’t have snuck in here. And I’m sorry. I am.” He looks at you. “But I looked down at you sleepin’ next to me and I couldn’t sleep knowin’ this son of a bitch was sittin’ in here with all the information we needed in order to get you revenge. After everything he’s done to you… I just couldn’t wait any more. And both of you can feel free to kick my ass for it but it doesn’t matter because-"

“Whoa, Dean, slow down.” Sam says, looking his brother up and down once more, his eyes hovering a few seconds on the Mark.

“Are… are you okay?” He asks hesitantly.

“I’m fine, Sammy.” He extends his blood-coated hands out in front of the both of you. “Look, see? Not even shaking.”

And he’s not. His hands are still. The Mark isn’t glowing. He seems… calm.

“But… how?” Sam asks.

“For her.” Dean answers, looking over to you. Your eyes go wide, and he goes on. “I told you, you’ll always bring me back. And right now, this… it’s about more than just revenge. More than the violence. This is about closure for you. For all the shit you went through. I hated myself for letting it happen in the first place. And I’ll be damned if I do anything to screw up your healing from it all. So, I just kept tellin’ myself that. Kept thinkin’ of you. And… it worked.”

His words nearly take your breath away. He was able to fight that darkness. To fight the Mark, at least for right now. For you. And he’s once again shown you how well he gets you. How well he knows what you need, and will do whatever he can to get it for you.

You look at him; clearly tired, covered in blood, knuckles bruised, and all of it for you. You never thought you’d have anyone in your life who fights for you the way Dean Winchester fights for you.

“It… worked?” Sam asks.

He nods. “I got names.”

“How many?” You ask.

He looks at you, his eyes brimming with intensity.

“All of ‘em.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am ALWAYS open to comments or suggestions, so please feel free. The feedback means so much to me.
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH for continuing to read, especially after 27 whole chapters. Wow.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for the boys and the reader to figure out a plan, and finally get it in motion.

He did it.

Dean got a total of twenty one names from the demon. He spent the entire night with him. Torturing him. And he eventually got him to crack.

The next step is figuring out what to do with those names. And what to do with the nearly dead demon in the dungeon. But for right now, all you care about is making sure Dean really is okay.

You know he headed to his room to change and wash up, so you grab some ice from the kitchen and then meet him in his room. You step in just in time to see him changing, facing away from you. You can’t help but silently admire the muscles in his back as he takes his bloody t-shirt off and pulls a fresh one over his head.

“There’s my hero.” You say with a smile, and he turns to look at you.

“There’s my girl.” He smiles back.

You stride up to him and plant a kiss on his lips, then pull back and study his face.

“You mad I went rogue?” He asks.

You sigh. “No. I probably should be, but it’s also exactly what I would’ve done if the roles were reversed. And…” You look at him earnestly. “And you got what we needed. And I wanna thank you for that.”

He raises his eyebrows and grins cockily. “Well, Sweetheart, I can think of plenty of ways for you to thank me.”

You chuckle. “Oh, I’m sure you can, handsome. And I’d be happy to deliver on those. But for now, you need this.”

You gently grab his right hand and hold it in front of you before placing the ice on his swollen and bruised knuckles.

“You really went to town on him, didn’t you?” You ask.

“Sure did.” He answers. “Enjoyed every damn second, too.”

“Good.” You say, looking from his hand up to his eyes with a devious smirk. “Glad you made him suffer.”

It may not be normal to bond over your mutual appreciation of torture, but hey, you and Dean are not a normal couple. And this guy had it coming, to say the least.

“So… you’re definitely okay?” You ask, still holding the ice on his hand.

He nods. “I’m okay. It wasn’t easy. I won’t lie. But it wasn’t just cause of the Mark. It was…” He looks away from you and trails off.

“It was what, Dean?”

He clenches his jaw before looking back at you. “He kept telling me about what he did to you. What he saw all the others do.”

Your heart sinks and you swallow hard.

“I kept trying to get him to shut up about it. But he-he wouldn’t stop. Every detail, every… every god damn thing he did.” He shakes his head, and you can see the pain in his eyes.

You feel yourself shaking slightly, knowing the things Dean must have heard. Knowing exactly what was done to you and how hard it must have been for him to hear about it.

He suddenly takes your face in his hands and looks into your eyes. “Y/N… I… Jesus, I am so fucking sorry.”

You shake your head. “Oh no, no, no. We are not backsliding into the pity party again, okay?” You place your hands on his and gently pull them away from your face, but hold onto them tightly.

“Nothing to be sorry for. It’s done. It’s over. And you helped me through it. And you’re still helping me through it. Especially by being the absolute bad ass that you are and getting those names.” You smirk at him, and he relaxes slightly.

“I’m sorry you had to hear all that.” You say. “But, I’m okay, Dean. I’m okay because of you. Because of Sam. And I’ll be even better once we take out all those sons of bitches.” You put your hand on his cheek. “But only if you’re sure you’re okay, too.”

He smiles subtly. “I am okay, gorgeous.”

You smile back. “Good. Then get yourself cleaned up, tough guy. And then you, Sam, and I are going to meet back in the library. Because I have a plan.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh, you do?”

“Yup. And you and Sam are gonna hate it.” You hum as you hurry out of the room.

He opens his mouth to shout after you, but you’re already gone.

“Of course we are.” He grumbles under his breath as he begins to wash up.

A few minutes later, Sam and Dean are meeting you in the library, where you’re already seated at one of the tables with a grin on your face. They sit across from you hesitantly, eyeing you curiously.

“Okay, so what is it?” Dean asks, clearly afraid to hear the answer.

“Well,” You begin, “we may have names, but we don’t have any way of knowing who’s who if they don’t tell us. And I doubt any of these demons are going to willingly admit to us who they are when we’re only asking so that we can kill them.”

“Right…” Sam says, waiting for you to continue.

“And on top of that, even if we did know who was who, we would have no way of knowing where they are or how to find them.”

“You’re paintin’ a pretty bleak picture there, Sweetheart.” Dean states.

“But.” You say. “We happen to have a connection in the demon scene. One who has a great deal of power. And would very likely be able to locate the demons we’re looking for. With ease.”

“Oh, God.” Dean groans as he rolls his eyes.

“Nope, not him. Guess again.” You say cheekily.

“Crowley? Really?” Sam questions in an annoyed tone.

“Really.” You state. “I think he’d help us.”

“Yeah, he’d help YOU.” Dean grumbles. “Creepy little prick is practically in love with you. It’s obvious.”

“Oh, that’s right, I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’m in love with him, too. I just can’t fight it any longer, Dean. I’m leaving you for him. We’re running away together.” You say sarcastically, ending with a smirk.

Dean glares at you. “Not funny.”

“A little funny.” You retort. “Look, maybe he does have some twisted little crush on me. But honestly, if we can use it to our advantage and get him to help us, then I say who cares.”

Dean rolls his eyes again, but Sam raises his eyebrows and nods subtly, clearly considering what you’re saying, which Dean quickly notices.

“Ah, come on, Sam! Don’t tell me you’re buyin’ this!”

Sam’s eyes go wide. “Well – I… I mean… she does kinda have a point.”

You smile. “That brings me to my second point.”

“Oh, great. It gets better.” Dean mutters.

“Even if Crowley can figure out where they all are, going after each of them one at a time would take too long. And as soon as we kill one, it’ll be a tip off to all the others and we’d completely lose the element of surprise. We’d never get them all.” You state.

“Right again.” Sam says. “Let me guess, you have a way around that, too.”

You wink at him. “I knew you got into Stanford for a reason.”

He lets out a small chuckle, and you continue.

“Yes, I have a way around that. We set a trap. Make them all come to us. And we take them all out. Together.”

“All of them? At once?” Sam asks in disbelief.

“What, you don’t think you can handle it, Sammy?” You tease. “Yes, all of them. We’ll hide a Devil’s trap somewhere. These demons, they’re strong and they’re evil but that doesn’t make them smart. Especially without Alastair leading them. They won’t see it coming. We’ll have the upper hand.”

“And how do you propose we trick them all into coming to us, huh?” Dean asks.

“Bait.” You answer.

“Bait?” Dean questions. “What, you’re thinkin’ we use that beat up piece of crap in the dungeon? Demons are a bunch of selfish pricks. They won’t all come just for him. They’d rather let him die.”

“Not him. Me.” You answer confidently.

They both go slack-jawed at that.

“You?!” Dean asks in shock. “You wanna use yourself as bait for the same bunch of demons that tortured you for months?”

“Yup.” You reply.

“No.” He says. “No way. No way in HELL.”

“Y/N…” Sam joins in. “It’s too dangerous.”

“No, it’s not.” You state. “They’re all coming after me anyway, did you forget that? Douchebag in the dungeon was just the first of many intent on finishing what Alastair started and ‘breaking me’ to raise the Devil.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean we need to hand you over to ‘em on a damn silver platter!” Dean shouts.

“We won’t.” You say calmly. “We’ll just make them think we are. We get Crowley to put word out that he’s switched teams. That he wants in on raising Lucifer. That he’s got me captive and if they want in, they need to be at a certain place at a certain time. A place that we choose. When they show up, we’ll be ready. And we take them out.”

“They aren’t going to believe that Crowley switched sides. Or that he has you and is torturing you.” Sam says.

“They will if he shows them proof.” You state.

“And you want us to what? To - to just tie you down to a chair and beat you up and he can send that image out to all of them?” Dean asks.

You just smile subtly and shrug.

He throws his head back in frustration. “Oh, come on!”

“I mean I’m already beat up.” You explain. “Just add a few fresh cuts and bruises, and voila.”

“You’re insane.” Sam scoffs.

“Maybe.” You answer. “But I’m not wrong.”

They both just stare at you, unsure of how to counter.

You sigh. “I understand that me being bait hasn’t always worked seamlessly in the past. But this is different. They show up where we want them to, they see me in what they think is a vulnerable state, and as soon as they get close enough, we strike.”

Once again, they both just look at you.

“It’s a damn good plan.” You declare. “It’s the best one we’ve got. Scratch that, it’s the only one we’ve got.”

Sam sighs and looks at his brother.

Dean looks at Sam, then back to you. He takes a deep, defeated breath. “God damn it.”

You smile at both of them. “Have a little faith, boys. What’s the worst that could happen?”

With that, you stand and as you’re walking out of the room, you say, “Let’s go summon us a little British demon.”

The boys remain seated for a few seconds and look at each other.

“Dude.” Dean says.

“I know.” Sam replies. “But… it is a good plan. She stresses me out, but… she’s impressive.”

“She’s god damn brilliant.” Dean states. “And she scares the Hell outta me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading.
> 
> You're awesome.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to see if Crowley will be on board with the plan.
> 
> And time for the reader and the boys to unwind a little before they risk their lives yet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a longer chapter, so please enjoy!
> 
> Oh, by the way, more smut ahead.

Eventually, Sam and Dean join you in your bedroom and help you set up everything needed to summon Crowley.

You light the match, drop it into the bowl, and in milliseconds Crowley appears in front of you.

He eyes you up and down with a grin when he sees you. “You rang, love?”

From behind him, Sam and Dean both scoff.

“Jeez, Crowley, at least play a little hard to get.” Dean mocks.

Crowley’s face darkens as he turns to face Dean. “What, you mean like you did?”

Dean raises his eyebrows, clearly offended. “Hey, you know what Crowley-"

“Oh, please, Dean. Don’t pretend you and I haven’t grown close recently. What with getting you that pesky little Mark and all. We’re practically BFF’s.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Like Hell we are. Especially not when you’re always eyein’ Y/N up.”

“Okay, boys, enough of that.” You cut in. “Crowley, we need your help.”

He turns back around to face you. “Do you? With what?”

“I need you to kidnap and torture me. Well, pretend to.”

He stares at you in disbelief for a few seconds before to turning again to look at the boys, giving them a ‘she can’t be serious’ look.

They both just stare back, eyebrows raised, giving him a ‘don’t look at us, this is all her crazy plan’ look.

He turns to look at you again. “Care to elaborate, pet?”

You explain to him that Dean got the names of the demons who tortured you, and you need his help to find them and lure them to you. You tell him your plan to have him trick these demons into believing he’s on their side, just long enough to trap them so you and the boys can kill them. He listens silently as you explain your plan to him, and doesn’t interrupt once. When you’re finally done, he just looks at you, stone-faced, for a few long seconds.

“Well,” You say, “What do you think?”

“I think…” He slowly begins to smile. “It’s a lovely idea.”

Your face lights up and the boys look at him in shock.

“Seriously?” Dean asks. “You think it’s a lovely idea?”

“Sure. Why not?” Crowley answers.

“If it was just us asking you for this, Crowley, you’d never agree to it.” Sam says.

“Well, it’s not you, is it, Moose?” He says, still smiling at you.

Dean groans and rolls his eyes.

“Besides…” Crowley goes on, “I’ll take any chance I can get to punish those who worship anyone other than the TRUE King of Hell. I won’t just be helping you, I’ll be making an example out of them.”

“Exactly.” You state. “Win-win. So, I’m thinking we find a nearby warehouse or some kind of building - something spacious but completely abandoned – and we set up there. You know, handcuff me to a pipe, tie me to a chair, whatever. It’s gotta be convincing. Crowley, you’re gonna have to send that image out to them somehow. Text them, call them, demon ESP them, whatever works.”

“How can we be sure they’re all gonna show?” Sam asks, and you can tell Dean and Crowley are wondering the same thing.

“Guys… I spent two months surrounded by these assholes. Making me suffer…” You swallow hard, “…it’s their favorite past time. They will not want to miss out on a chance to do it again. And they will not want to miss out on a chance to be the ones to bust Lucifer out of the cage. They’ll show.”

With that, all three of them nod at you in understanding.

“So, these names…” Crowley begins.

“Yeah, uh, here.” Dean states, handing Crowley a slip of paper. “They’re all on there.”

“Right, well, I’ll look into these. And when you’re ready for my assistance, just tell me where to be.” Crowley says, turning to you. “And, uh… no need to summon, love. You can just call me.” With that, he winks at you and disappears.

“Okay.” You take a deep breath and look at the boys. “You guys go start looking into where we should set this whole thing up. I’m gonna head to the dungeon.”

They both look at you in surprise.

“We don’t need him anymore.” You state. “And I’ve been waiting for this.”

Sam steps toward and places a hand on your shoulder, looking at you intently. “Just be careful, okay?”

You nod at him. “I will, Sammy.”

He nods back to you and with that, walks out of your room.

You look at Dean, and find him studying you carefully. “Maybe I should go in there with you.” He suggests.

“I can handle him, Dean.” You assure.

“Oh, I know ya can. And you damn well deserve to be the one to take him out. I just wanna make sure you have support. Back up. Just in case you need it.”

You smile at him subtly. “You’ll be right down the hall. If I need back up, I’ll call. Promise. But, right now… I really need to do this one on my own.” You look deep into his eyes, and you can tell he really hears you.

He nods. “Whatever you need, Sweetheart.” With that, he pulls his demon blade out of his back pocket and hands it to you.

You smile and take it and he gives you one last supportive look before he heads out of the room.

You look down at the knife in your hands, take a deep breath, and head down the hall to the dungeon.

You walk in slowly, and you see the battered demon in the middle of the room. He looks up when he hears you enter, and you see a sick smile cross his face as he sees you walking toward him.

“Well, hello there, beautiful.” He croons. “You look incredible.”

“Yeah?” You respond, looking him up and down. “Can’t say the same to you.”

“I’ve missed you.” He goes on. “Haven’t you missed me?”

You scoff. “Not even a little.”

“Hm, I just don’t believe that.” He taunts. “I think you’re lying to yourself. You can pretend you didn’t enjoy the time you had with all of us in that basement… but I think, deep down, you did. We made you do things you probably didn’t even know you could do.”

You feel the rage bubbling in your chest, but you don’t respond right away.

He takes that silence as a chance to cut even deeper. “The things we did to you… mmm, mmm, mmm. In all my years, I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun.”

“Well, all your years are about to come to an end.” You snap back, pulling the knife out of your back pocket.

He swallows hard as he looks at the knife, but a self-conscious smile still comes across his face.

“You gonna torture me like your boyfriend did? I’ll admit, I would prefer you to him. He just doesn’t have the…” He pauses, looking your body up and down and licking his lips. “…charms… that you do.”

“Oh, I think he’s plenty charming.” You respond smugly. “Especially when he makes pathetic demons like you rat out their own.”

His smile fades with that, and you see the anger and hatred over take his eyes. “Doesn’t matter,” He snarls, “even with their names, you three misfits won’t be able to take them all out.”

“Now who’s lying to themselves, huh?” You take a step closer to him and lean down.

“Look me in the eyes, you son of a bitch. We are going to kill every last one of them. And it will be all thanks to you.”

The conviction in your voice and the intensity in your eyes has him gulping hard again.

“It won’t help.” He snaps back. “Killing me, killing any of us, won’t take away those memories of all the good times we had together.” He says with another smug grin.

This time, though, you grin back. And this catches him off guard and you see his own grin fade.

“Maybe not.” You state as you lift the blade slowly and press it against his chest. “But that fear I see right there in your eyes, that’s a damn good place to start.”

“You’ll never forget me.” He growls out shakily. “You can’t.

You lean closer, narrow your eyes further, and whisper, “You’re already forgotten.”

With that, you pull the blade back and plunge it into his chest. He screams out as he lights up, and you yank the blade from his chest as his head drops forward, limp.

You stand there, looking down at him, your chest heaving. You feel a weight lift from your shoulders, and you feel a sudden relief flood through your veins. As strong as you are, and as much as the boys have helped you, you realize in this instant just how badly you’ve needed this. How relieved and free you will finally feel when it’s all done, and you’ve killed all of them. You are finally starting to get your revenge. To get justice for what was done to you. And god damn it, it feels good.

You take a deep breath and turn around, heading out of the dungeon and into the library to the boys. They both look up from what they’re doing, their eyes studying you carefully.

When you reach the table, Dean stands and looks into your eyes. “Hey. You alright?”

You nod, placing the blade down on the table. “Yeah, I’m good.”

You look between the two of them as a relieved smile crosses your face. “I’m really good.”

They boys both relax and smile back at that.

“Good.” Sam states.

You look into to Dean’s eyes and he looks at you earnestly. “We’re gonna get ‘em all, Sweetheart.” He promises. And somehow, you know it’s true.

You spend the next couple hours with the boys, looking for the perfect place to set this plan in motion. Eventually, the three of you discover an old warehouse about half an hour away from you that’s been abandoned for a few years. Based on the floor plan and images that Sam was able to find online, it looks like the perfect place to set up. Plenty of open space, out of sight of any civilians, and close enough to home that if anything goes wrong, you can get back here quickly.

“Hey, this place has wood floors.” You state, looking at one of the pictures on Sam’s laptop.

“Yeah… what are you thinking?” Sam asks.

“Well, I’ve been trying to figure out how to get a large enough Devil’s Trap in there so that we can trap them all without them noticing. Maybe we can carve one into the floor. It would take longer, but it would be a Hell of a lot less obvious than paint. There are enough empty boxes and crates in there, we can strategically place them all around the room to hide whatever we carve in the floor. I mean, I don’t know… it’s not perfect, but it could work.”

You look from the laptop screen to the boys, to find them both grinning at you.

“What?” You ask.

“And she does it again.” Dean states.

You roll your eyes and laugh him off.

“That’s a really good idea, Y/N.” Sam states. “Seriously, this whole plan is yours and it’s a good one. It’s absolutely insane, but it’s a good one.”

“Yeah, well, that also means that it will be all my fault if it goes wrong.” You reply.

“It won’t.” Dean responds confidently.

“Well, speaking of things going wrong…” You state, looking at Dean.

“Hey, hey, I already know. No blade. I won’t use it.” He holds his hands up in surrender.

You and Sam exchange quick looks and you nod at Dean.

“Good.” Sam states. “These demons, they’re clearly all low level. It won’t take anything more than a regular demon or angel blade to kill them. And we have plenty of those.”

You sigh. “Well, I guess we have our plan, boys.” You say as you stand. “Time to call Crowley and let him know the details.”

“Try not to let him flirt with you too much.” Dean grumbles, and you laugh as you head out of the room.

Once you’re in your room, you pick up your cell and call Crowley, who answers right away.

“Well, hello, love. Got something for me?”

“I do.” You answer. “Old warehouse about a half hour outside of Lebanon. I’ll text you the address. You find any of them yet?”

“All of them. The King of Hell has quite the abundance of resources. None of them are very far. Shouldn’t be hard for me to make contact with them. Seems they’re all circling the general area already, waiting for their shot at you.”

“Fantastic. Good thing we’re gonna give it to them.”

“Indeed.” He responds. “And you’re sure you’re ready for this?”

“Oh, I’m ready.” You say. “It’s time.”

“Right. Then see you tomorrow, love.”

With that, you hang up the phone and sit down on your bed. You realize that it’s really happening. The plan is in place. Tomorrow is the day. You’re excited. You’re energized. And... you’re scared.

You’re not scared of these demons. Or of the plan going wrong. You’re scared of what it still might do to Dean. Throughout this process, you’ve been so conflicted. You need this revenge, this closure. But you need him even more. And despite how well he held himself together when it came to torturing that demon, you know you’d be naïve to think that slaughtering a warehouse full of them might not affect him. And part of you feels selfish for even allowing himself to take that risk for you.

But you don’t have a choice. They’re coming for you one way or another, and this is the only way to get ahead of it. And get you the justice you know you deserve. There’s no stopping it now. And truthfully, you know Dean wouldn’t let you stop it if you tried.

Just then, Dean rounds the corner into your room, and sees you deep in thought.

“What goin’ on?” He asks, concerned.

“Nothing. Just… preparing myself for tomorrow.”

He walks up to you, takes your hand, and pulls you up to stand in front of him. He looks down at you, his emerald green eyes connecting with yours.

“You ready for it?” He asks, studying you closely.

“Yeah.” You utter. “Yeah, I am.”

“Good.” He says with a grin. “Tomorrow, we kick some demon ass. And tonight, you, Sammy, and I are gonna have some fun.”

You smile back. “Oh yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.” He winks as he pulls you out of the room.

Sam runs out for pizza and beer, and when he returns you sit across from Sam and Dean at your go-to the table in the library, eating, drinking, and joking around. None of you talk about tomorrow. You all know, deep down, that this could be a suicide mission. That this is dangerous and scary and has the potential to take you all out if even one thing goes wrong.

But tonight, none of you care about that. Tonight is about the three of you. And nothing else.

“And how about that time with the rabbit’s foot?!” Dean laughs out as he sips his beer.

“Oh, come on.” Sam grumbles.

“Sammy had such bad luck, he couldn’t even walk in a straight line!”

You look at Sam with pity as you continue to laugh, hearing the boys recount some of their funniest hunts.

Sam looks at you. “I lost my shoe. I never will get over losing my shoe.”

With that, all three of you begin chuckling again.

“Yeah, well that still isn’t as bad as when Dean got abducted by fairies!” Sam exclaims.

“Fairies?!” You laugh.

Dean’s face drops. “Yeah, well, it wouldn’t have been so bad if you had tried AT ALL to help me out, Sam!” He shouts.

“I didn’t have a soul, it wasn’t my fault!” Sam shouts back.

“Oh, yeah, well what about when you married Becky!?” Dean yells.

“Becky?! Crazy fan Becky?” You ask, recalling the stories the boys have already told you.

“I was under a spell!” Sam yells, clearly embarrassed.

You can’t help but burst out laughing watching the two of them go back and forth. They continue this way, bickering and laughing and making fun of each other, and you just watch them, completely amused. You think about how much they mean to you, and how grateful you are that the two of them have your back. And you have theirs. And no matter how much time you spend with them, you will never get over how lucky you are to have found them.

“Alright, alright, enough with this!” Dean shouts. “No more bringin’ up our most embarrassing moments. Let’s do somethin’ else. Let’s uh… play a game.”

“What game?” You ask hesitantly.

“Truth or dare.” He states confidently.

“Truth or dare? Seriously?” Sam asks. “What are we, fifteen?”

“Come on, Sammy!” Dean says excitedly. “It’ll be fun. Unless you’re…. chicken.”

Sam looks at you, clearly looking for some backup.

“Don’t look at me, pal. You know I’m always down for anything.” You say with a smirk.

Sam just sighs and takes a sip of his beer. “Fine.”

“Ha! Awesome!” Dean yells. “Okay, Y/N, ladies first. Truth or dare?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “What do you think?”

He smirks. “Alright. Then, I dare you to knock back the rest of that six pack, right now.” He gestures to the 3 remaining bottles of beer sitting on the table in front of you.

“You trying to get me drunk, Winchester? Because it’ll take a lot more than 3 beers to do that.” You say confidently.

“Good thing we have plenty more in the fridge.” He responds.

With that, you stand, grab the first bottle, pop the top, and chug the whole thing in only a few gulps. The boys look at you in slight surprise, and you just do the same thing with the remaining two bottles. You slam the last one down with a smirk as you sit back down. The boys just look at you, impressed.

“Damn…” Dean mutters.

“My turn.” You say, looking at Sam. “Sam, truth or dare?”

“Uh… truth.” He states.

“Why am I not surprised?” Dean teases.

“Okay…” You think for a few seconds, before a smile creeps across your face. “Did you and Becky consummate your marriage?”

Dean chokes on his beer and starts laughing and Sam’s cheeks go slightly red. He eyes you in annoyance, but you can see he’s also trying not to laugh.

“No, we did not.” He states flatly, while you and Dean continue to chuckle.

“Alright, Dean.” Sam turns to his brother. “Truth or dare?”

Dean stops laughing abruptly. “Uh, dare.”

“I dare you to go to the fridge, make a salad, and eat the whole thing.” Sam says with a smirk.

“Oh, no.” Dean responds. “No way. I’m not doing that.”

You laugh at his dramatic response, and he looks at you as if you’ve betrayed him.

“It’s your game. You gotta do it.” You chuckle.

He groans and stands up slowly, making his way to the kitchen.

“And grab some more beer while you’re in there!” You shout after him.

You and Sam continue to laugh and a few moments later Dean returns with another round of beer, a small salad, and a depressed look on his face.

You can’t stop laughing at the ridiculousness of this dare, and how much it’s affecting him. This big strong, guy can’t handle a few bites of lettuce. Slowly and miserably, he eats the entire thing, and you laugh the whole way through.

The three of you continue this way for hours, joking around and daring each other like little kids. After a while, you realize your cheeks hurt from laughing. Sam heads to the kitchen to grab another round, and you see Dean’s gaze suddenly locked on you, his eyes raking you up and down, catching you off guard.

Instantly, you feel a heat inside you. All it takes is one look from him. You match his gaze as he takes a sip of his beer, never once breaking eye contact with you.

Just then, Sam returns, placing a few bottles down on the table.

Without looking away from you, Dean says, “Hey, Sammy. I dare you to go to bed.”

Sam looks slightly confused for a second, but once he sees the way you and Dean are looking at each other, realization takes over.

“Oh, jeez.” He states. “Yeah, uh… Yeah I’ll just take this one in my room.” He says, waving his bottle in the air with a chuckle as he heads out of the room. “Goodnight, you two.”

“Goodnight, Sammy.” You and Dean both say at the same time, which leads you both to smirk as you maintain eye contact, his piercing green gaze cutting right through you as he leans toward you slightly.

“Truth or dare?” He rasps.

“Dare.” You whisper.

“I dare you to get the Hell over here.”

You stand slowly and take a few steps around the table, until you’re standing next to Dean’s chair, looking down at him.

His eyes rake your body up and down once more, and he pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth as he takes in the sight of you.

“Truth or dare, Dean?”

“Dare.” He rasps.

You lean down next to him, your lips brushing his ear, and whisper, “I dare you to fuck me like we might die tomorrow.”

With that, he jumps up from his seat and wraps his arms tightly around your waist, instantly lifting you as his lips crash into yours. He turns, placing you down so that you’re now sitting on the table, your legs straddling his waist as he stands in front of you.

His hands grip your thighs tightly as his lips move with yours and his tongue darts in and out of your mouth desperately. You wrap one arm around his back and grab a handful of his hair with the other. You gently pull his head back and press your open lips against his neck.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He huffs out your name as you continue kissing and licking at his neck. He presses up against you further and you wrap your legs around him and pull him even closer as you feel how hard he is.

You grind against him and he growls out in pleasure as you continue kissing up his neck and along his jaw, until your lips finally meet with his once again. When they do, he instantly takes your face tightly in his hands and kisses you hard.

You slip your hands under his flannel and push it off of him, and he tosses it away behind him. You waste no time, reaching to grab the bottom of his t-shirt, and his lips only finally part with yours when you pull that off over his head as well.

You both stop for a few seconds, breathing heavily and looking at each other. Neither of you say a word, but the love flowing between the two of you is almost overwhelming.

He gently lifts your t-shirt off over your head, and reaches behind you to unclasp your bra. You watch all the breath leave his lungs as your bra falls from your body and he sees you bare in front of him. The way his eyes sparkle, it’s like every time is the very first time he’s seeing you.

He leans forward and his lips brush against your neck, instantly giving you chills. He opens his mouth and begins kissing slowly, making his way from your neck down to your chest. He takes your left breast in his hand as his soft lips come down on your right one. He has his other hand firmly behind your back, allowing you to lean back and press yourself even further into his mouth as he licks and sucks at your nipple.

“Dean…” You breathe his name and this elicits a low growl from his throat as he pulls away from your breast so that he can unbutton your jeans. As he does this, you reach forward and undo his belt and buttons as well, pulling his jeans and boxers down.

As soon as your jeans are unbuttoned, he pulls them and your panties down off of your legs and tosses them to the side urgently as he begins to line himself up with you. But before he does, he suddenly pauses and he looks at you intently, his eyes moving up and down your body as you sit in front of him.

“Sweetheart… in a world full of bad, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He pants.

“I could say the same to you, Winchester.” You breathe.

He smiles, and then gently pushes himself into you. As he fills you up, this ignites each and every one of your senses and you dig your nails into his back as you both gasp out in pleasure. He pulls out slowly and pushes himself back in, and you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him even further inside you. He growls in bliss at the feeling of that, and grabs your face firmly with one hand to plant a kiss on your moaning lips.

He pulls out slowly once more, but this time pushes back in harder and faster as he begins to pick up his pace. You continue digging your nails into his back, and you throw your head back in ecstasy as you moan his name. His lips instantly land on your neck, and he sucks and nips at your skin as he continues to pump into you.

He quickens his pace once more and you whine out in surprise, your hands flying to grab the edge of the table on either side of you to steady yourself and keep yourself from losing it already. You hear the table squeaking and feel it shaking beneath you, but you don’t care, the pleasure so great that it blinds you to everything else around you.

You wrap your legs even tighter around Dean’s waist as he thrusts into you, pulling him so close that the two of you are nearly leaning all the way back onto the table. He wraps both arms tightly around your waist to keep you both balanced, and you place your hands on either side of his face. Your bodies are pressed so tightly against one another that the only movement is the pounding of Dean’s hips as he picks up his pace once more, and pleasure courses through your body like a streak of lightning.

“Dean!” You whine out his name once more, and he furrows his brows as he focuses his sparkling green eyes on yours. In an instant, your orgasm takes over every nerve in your body and you watch as his washes over him as well. You grip him tightly as the two of you ride them out in sync, both of you shaking as the last waves hit you.

You both pant breathlessly as you collapse backward, laying on the table, and Dean collapses on top of you, his face on your chest. You smile weakly as you run your fingers through his hair. Eventually, he stands up and pulls you to sit back up as well.

You look at each other in awe, both amazed by how you make each other feel. Emotionally and physically.

“I love you.” He breathes.

“I love you, too.” You say.

“If we didn’t have to get some rest before our big day tomorrow, I’d say let’s do that again.” He states.

“Well, babe, we got tonight. Who needs tomorrow?” You say with a smirk.

He looks at you in wonder before chuckling. “God damn…” He shakes his head in amazement. “You really are my destiny.”

You chuckle, and he lifts you, carrying you all the way back to his room, not even worrying about the clothes you left strewn all over the library.

That night, you lay on Dean’s chest and close your eyes as you think about the day ahead. You know you’re taking a risk. You know it could get rough. There are so many variables. So many uncertainties.

But there is one thing you are certain about.

You believe in the Winchesters. And they believe in you.

And as long as you have that, you can’t lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!!!
> 
> I promise, next chapter the plan will finally go down.
> 
> But don't worry, it won't be the end. Believe it or not, after almost 30 chapters I still have so much in mind.
> 
> Hope you guys aren't getting sick of me just yet.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the reader to finally get her chance for revenge, with her boys by her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 30 chapters?!
> 
> You guys have seriously stuck with me for this long?
> 
> You're incredible.
> 
> It's finally time for the big showdown. And I have got one looooooong ass chapter for you.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

That morning, you wake up to find Dean already awake, watching you.

“Morning, handsome.” You say. “What are you doing?”

“Enjoying the view.” He drawls.

And you are, too. His green eyes are sparkling as they watch you, his plump lips are revealing a bright smile, and you feel butterflies in your stomach.

You grin and pull him down into a kiss.

When he pulls back, your smile slowly fades as you lay there, looking up at the ceiling, thinking about what lay ahead of you today.

“Hey,” Dean whispers. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just… when they had me, when they were doing everything that they did to me… I really never thought I’d have this chance.” You look at him. “To get justice for all of it.”

He studies your face carefully, and you can see the pain behind his eyes as he listens to you.

“So I guess I just almost can’t believe it’s happening.”

He puts a hand gently on your cheek to steady you and look deeply into your eyes. “It’s happening, Sweetheart.” He’s giving you that gaze that never fails to make you feel calm and grounded.

“We’re doin’ this.” He goes on. “And this plan is gonna work. We’re gonna kick some demon ass, and then we’re gonna come back here and lay in this bed and not leave for a week.”

You chuckle. “Is that so? And…” You lower your tone and look at him seductively, “whatever are we going to do for a whole week in this bed?”

He bites his lip and suddenly his body is on top of yours, your face in his hands.

“Sweetheart, I can think of all kinds of things.” He rasps as he begins to lean down to kiss you.

Suddenly, there’s a subtle knock on the door. “Hey, uh, anybody wanna go pick up the clothes that are literally all over the library?” Sam questions.

Dean squeezes his eyes closed. “Dammit, Sammy.” He mutters under his breath.

When he opens his eyes, you both just look at each other and laugh, and you hear Sam chuckle on the other side of the door. “Let’s go, lovebirds! Big day.” He shouts before you hear him walk away.

Dean groans as he slowly rolls his body off of yours and to the side.

“Hate to say it, but he’s right. We gotta get moving.” You say as you roll on top of Dean, kiss him quickly, then get out of bed and throw one of his t-shirts over your head.

“Mmm.” He grunts as he shakes his head slightly and watches you in awe.

You just smirk at him before walking out of his room and down the hall for a quick shower. Then, you head to your room, get dressed, and pack a bag full of every last blade you have stashed. A few moments later, you meet Dean and Sam in the map room, and all three of you exchange silent glances.

“Well boys, let’s fucking do this.” You state with a grin.

They both smile at you and the three of you head to the Impala.

Half an hour later, you arrive outside the warehouse. When you walk inside, it’s exactly as you expected. There’s a large, open space in the center of the room. Old boxes and crates are strewn around the room, and the old woods floors are perfect for carving a Devil’s Trap into. As the boys do that, you pull out your phone and text Crowley, who arrives in minutes.

“Hello, boys.” He grins at Sam and Dean before turning to you and nodding. “Y/N.”

“What do you think?” You ask him as you gesture to the open space around you.

He glances around the inside of the warehouse. “I think… it won’t be winning any awards in the interior design department. But it will do the trick.”

“Good.” You state. “Watch out for that.” You point to the large Devil’s Trap the boys have carved just a few feet away.

He raises his eyebrow. “My, my. Innovative.” He states. “Hadn’t even noticed that.”

“Yeah, Crowley, that’s kind of the idea.” Sam grumbles.

Crowley just eyes Sam before turning back to you. “Alright then, love. Shall we get on with it? I’d like to get my part in all of this over with, since I won’t be staying.”

“Of course you won’t.” Dean scoffs.

“Don’t be a brat, Squirrel.” Crowley says. “I’m happy to help. Just would rather not… get my hands dirty.”

“Well, one of you needs to get your hands a little dirty.” You say, looking between the three of them. “Because someone needs to hit me.”

All three of them stare at you blankly, as if they had forgotten this was part of the plan.

“Do we… do we really have to do this part?” Dean asks.

You sigh and turn to Crowley. “Were you able to get in touch with the demons?”

He nods. “I was. I’ve been in contact with one by the name of Raum. He seems to have taken over the role as the boss since… well, since you continue to kill the other bosses. I told him exactly what you requested I tell him. That I had you prisoner. And that I would give him information as to where he and the rest should be later today.”

“And what did he say to that?” You ask.

“He said… he wants proof.”

You turn to look at the boys, eyebrows raised, with an ‘I told you so’ stare.

“Come on!” Dean shouts. “You’re already beat up! Isn’t that enough?”

“These bruises are from days ago. Do you really think they’re gonna believe that if Crowley’s TORTURING me right now, I wouldn’t have fresher wounds?” You explain.

Once again, they all just stare at you.

You sigh. “Look, I’m the one who’s gotta take the hits, okay? I’m not exactly thrilled either. But, we have to.” You look at them intently, waiting for one of them to finally give in and volunteer.

But none of them do.

You groan in frustration. “Come on! If I was a guy, this wouldn’t be this difficult. Don’t tell me you three are sexist.”

“Ah, here she goes with the reverse psychology now.” Dean grumbles quietly, throwing his hands in the air.

“We don’t have time for this.” You state flatly. You turn to Crowley. “Alright, you do it. Let’s go.”

Me?!” Crowley exclaims. “Why me?”

“Well, they’re never gonna do it.” You gesture to the boys. Crowley just looks at the boys, then back to you, but doesn’t respond.

You sigh again, your eyes pleading. “Crowley, please. You helped me get revenge once before. I need you to do this for me, so that I can get it again.”

He stares back at you for a few more seconds before finally sighing in defeat. “Fine.” He mumbles.

You breathe out in relief. “Thank you.”

You turn to the boys. “You guys might wanna head outside for a few minutes. Probably not a good idea for you to watch Crowley kick my ass.”

They both clench their jaws and tense up just hearing the words. Eventually, they both just nod and begin to walk toward the door. Your eyes connect with Dean’s briefly, and you see all the concern pouring out through his gaze. You gaze back, giving him a reassuring stare just before he exits out the door.

You turn back to Crowley with a smirk. “Alright. Gimme your best shot.”

He just stares at you, looking almost nervous.

“It’ll be fine.” You state. “Just a couple of blows to the face. Good to go.”

“I…” He hesitates. “Don’t they already hurt?” He gestures to the fading bruises already on your face.

You close your eyes and grumble, “This is like pulling teeth.”

You open them again and look at him. “Yes, Crowley, my bruised face does smart a little. Not really the point right now. Let’s focus on the big picture, huh?”

He continues to stare at you.

“Jesus!” You shout. “You’re supposed to be the King of Hell! You’re supposed to be eating the souls of children for breakfast! You’re supposed to be god damn terrifying, right?!”

His eyes darken slightly.

“Well you’re not terrifying right now!” You continue. “You don’t seem like a King at all! You seem more like a pathetic, scared, whiny little-"

His fist flies out and connects with your mouth, snapping your head to the side.

You bring your hand up to touch your lip, and when you pull it away you see blood on your fingertips. Your eyes snap up to look at him and you see him looking at you, wide-eyed and frozen.

Slowly, you smile, revealing blood-stained teeth. “Atta boy. Couple more. You can do it.”

He smiles slightly. “Darling, you are absolutely off your rocker. That’s what I admire about you.”

With that, he swings once more.

After a few more hits, each one requiring you to hype Crowley up before he’s able to swing, you’re hoping that you look battered enough to be convincing. Your lip is split, nose is bleeding, and you can feel a fresh black eye forming.

Crowley goes to retrieve the boys from outside and when they walk in and see you, they both close their eyes, clearly upset.

“God damn it, Crowley.” Dean growls, opening his eyes and glaring at Crowley.

“Hey,” You say calmly, walking up to him. “I’m fine, alright? Nothing I can’t handle. And nothing compared to what we’re about to dish out on these assholes. Okay?” Your eyes study his face.

He nods and sighs, tearing his gaze away from your bruises to look into your eyes.

“Okay.” He whispers.

“Okay.” You say with a smile. “Then, let’s do this.”

The boys grab an old chair and drag it into the center of the Devil’s Trap, and carefully arrange the boxes and crates in the warehouse to further mask the Devil’s Trap. You sit in the chair and Dean kneels behind you, very loosely tying your wrists with rope to assure that you can pull right out of it when the time comes.

You smirk and turn your head towards him as he does this.

“What?” He asks with a chuckle.

“You’re pretty good at that. Might have to have you tie me up more often.” You say seductively.

He swallows hard and bites his lip before his green eyes flick up to look at you.

He leans closer to you and whispers, “You are going to kill me.”

You chuckle and a grin spreads across his face as he stands. The three of them stand in front of you, looking down at you.

“Well? Convincing enough?” You ask.

“Yeah. Too convincing.” Sam says.

“Good.” You state. “Crowley, go ahead.”

Crowley snaps a picture of you and sends it to the demon he’s been in contact with. After a few moments, his phone chimes.

“They’ll be here shortly.” Crowley states. “And that is my cue.” He nods at Sam and Dean. “Boys.” Then, he looks at you. “Good luck, love. Be careful.”

“Not a chance.” You smirk. With that, he disappears.

You and the boys just look at each other for a few moments as the air hangs silent and heavy around you.

This is it.

You’re all armed with holy water, multiple blades, and a whole lotta rage.

You nod at them, and they both nod back, all three of you saying so much to each other, mentally preparing each other, without saying anything at all.

The two of them back away and hide a few yards away from you, tucked away behind some old machinery, weapons in hand.

There are a few more moments of silence, and in them you can hear your own heart racing. You take a deep breath to keep yourself steady and focused. You know seeing all of them here, at once, won’t be easy. But you’re so ready for this. It’s now or never.

Suddenly, the front door creaks open slowly, and you see a tall figure enter. Then another. Then another.

Before you know it, there are over twenty demons in the warehouse, all grinning and walking toward you. And the closer they get, the more of them you recognize. The more memories flash through your head. You hold your breath, desperately fighting to keep yourself together.

The one in front, you assume that must be Raum, is now only a couple yards in front of you. You remember him. And as he grins at you, you also remember everything he did.  
“Look at this…” He croons. “Wrapped up for us like a pretty little present.”

“Sorry, forgot to wear the bow.” You spit back.

He looks around the room. “Where’s Crowley?”

“Not here.” You answer. “But before he left, the son of a bitch told me I should be expecting some visitors. He didn’t tell me they’d all be so ugly, though.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “There’s that spunk I remember. And do you remember all of us, Y/N?”

You clench your jaw as you eye the demons behind him.

“Yes.” You grit out.

He grins once more. “I would think so. I would think, after the fun we all had… it would be difficult to forget.”

From their hiding place, Dean and Sam look on in anger. Every word that leaves the demon’s mouth has Dean ready to run out there and attack. And the more he says to you, the more Sam has to practically hold Dean back.

The demon licks his lips as he steps closer and eyes you up and down.

“Sure have missed you, Y/N.” He hums. “We’ve never formally met. My name is Raum. You’ll want to remember that.”

He’s now hardly a foot in front of you, but the rest of the demons aren’t all in the trap yet, so you can’t show your cards yet. You have to wait until they’re all trapped.

He leans down slightly and looks closely at you. “Well, I didn’t believe it at first but it looks like Crowley really has joined our team. I mean…” He reaches out and brushes his knuckles against your bruised cheek. “He certainly has knocked you around a bit. Nothing close to what we have planned. But a bit.”

When the demon touches you, a low growl sounds in Dean’s throat and Sam has to grab his shoulder to hold him back and keep him from blowing everything.

You pull your face away from the demon in disgust. “And what do you have planned?” You ask as you glare at him.

“Alastair… Andras… they were close. I mean, they almost broke you. But, they just didn’t push you far enough.”

You glance quickly at the last few demons still outside the trap. They’re only a few steps away. You truly can’t stand the monologuing, but you can’t make a move yet. So you just listen to the demon as he goes on.

“I’m going to push you even further. Bend you until you finally do break. And our Lord is finally set free.”

He steps even closer and leans down in front of you, grabbing your face in his hand roughly. “I was there, Y/N. We were all there. We remember everything that made you scream. Every last thing that made you whine, and cry, and whimper.” You continue to glare at him, but the things he’s saying make the memories flash before you again and it takes everything you have to remain calm.

As Dean listens, and watches the way the demon grabs you, his chest heaves and his entire body shakes with rage. Sam just continues to hold him back, knowing that he won’t be able to for much longer.

The demon squeezes your face even tighter and leans even closer, his face only inches from yours.

“I’m going to break you, Y/N. The things I’m going to do to you… by the time I’m done, you’ll be begging for it to end.”

As he says this, you see the last of the demons enter the Devil’s Trap. You look back to Raum and smirk.

“What’s so funny?” He snarls.

“It’s just… you all make that same threat just before we kick your ass.” You say with a grin.

“We?!” He shouts.

In an instant, you yank your hands out of the ropes, jump to your feet, and quickly step outside the Devil’s Trap just as the boys come out from their hiding place.  
The demon’s eyes flash from you to the boys.

“Winchesters.” He sneers, and then he begins to lunge toward them but is stopped abruptly by an invisible force. He looks up, and when he doesn’t see anything above him, he looks down. That’s when he spots the subtle carvings of the trap. He growls in frustration as he looks back up at you.

You smile. “What was it you were saying about all those awful things you’re gonna do to me?” You taunt.

“Oh, I’m still going to do them.” He growls. “There are only three of you. Devil’s Trap or not, you can’t take us all on.”

“Well,” You narrow your eyes at him. “You’ve never seen me in a fair fight.”

With that, you rush forward, a blade in each hand, Sam and Dean right next to you. The three of you attack the demons, all the rage and fire that’s built up in you coming out on them at once. You all stay by the edge of the Devil’s Trap, to ensure that you can’t be surrounded and that no one can sneak up on you from behind. You’re each battling two or three of them at a time, slashing and punching and knocking them away. As you come face to face with each one, you remember them and the things they did to you, and it only fuels your fight.

Suddenly, you get an opening and plunge your blade into the one you’re currently fighting. As his face crackles brightly and he falls to the ground, you feel a rush of energy course through your body. You swing your blade and take out another, and the adrenaline pumping through you feels incredible as you look over to see the boys taking out a couple of them, too.

Your eyes connect with Dean’s and he smiles at you. You smile back, and just as you do you see a demon grab him from behind and throw him to the ground. Your eyes go wide and you turn to rush toward him, but a swarm of demons blocks your path and you have no choice but to try and fight them off.

As you slash and stab, you look over and see Sam also surrounded and overwhelmed. Panic rises in your throat as you realize… you’re losing.

A demon knocks one of the blades from your hand and it lands a few feet away, outside the Devil’s Trap, leaving you with only one blade now. You frantically look around for Dean but can’t see him past the demons coming at you, and as you stab one another instantly appears in its place. You look again at Sam to see a demon punching him in the face and your heart feels as though it’s about to pound out of your chest when suddenly-

A demon to the left of you screams as his eyes light up and the life leaves his body. As his vessel crumbles to the ground, you see the figure standing behind him.

Castiel.

As you continue to fight the demons around you, your eyes connect with his for a split second before he runs to Dean and stabs one of the demons standing over him. You watch as he helps Dean to his feet, and the two of them continue fighting together. Some of the demons that had been surrounding Sam run to attack Castiel, and as you look around you can tell that you and the boys once again have control of the situation.

Because Cass tipped the scales in your favor.

You kill another demon, and see each of the boys do the same. You watch Castiel pick one of the demons up and throw him down hard onto the ground, before leaning down and plunging his blade into its chest.

You look around and smile, realizing that there are only five demons left. What you don’t realize, is that Cass threw the demon down so hard, he cracked the floor.

And the Devil’s Trap along with it.

You stab one more of the demons, which by your count leaves only four, but when you look up you see only 3 of them still fighting with the boys.

Just then, Dean looks at you and you watch his eyes go wide. You feel a blade press against your throat from behind and a hand grab a firm handful of your hair, tilting your head back slightly.

You freeze, and you watch as all three of the boys do the same.

“Yes, there we go. Everybody just hold on for a moment.” You can tell by the voice, it’s Raum. The snake managed to be one of the last ones left.

“Guess someone cracked your little carving. Set me free and allowed me to pick up this nifty little blade.” He sneers, pressing the blade even harder against your throat. “Drop the knives, gentlemen.”

You look at the boys, your eyes pleading with them not to listen to him. But you know they will. They’ll do whatever he says as long as he’s got a blade against your throat. All three of them drop their knives and you close your eyes as you hear them clatter to the floor.

“You too, princess.” He growls into your ear. You clench your jaw, but you don’t listen to him. He suddenly presses the blade even harder against your throat, drawing blood slightly. You still don’t want to drop your blade, purely because you don’t want to give him the satisfaction, but the panic in the boy’s eyes makes you realize you really don’t have a choice.

You let go of the blade, and he chuckles in satisfaction behind you.

“Good girl. Now, boys, on your knees.”

The boys don’t listen right away, but the three remaining demons behind them step forward and shove them roughly to the ground in front of you, their powers and strength now returned with the Devil’s Trap broken. Watching as the demon shoves Castiel to his knees with ease, this is the first time you notice how truly weak Cass looks without his grace. Your eyes scan between all three of the boys, and they each look back at you with desperation and sorrow.

“My, how the tables have turned once again.” Raum sneers, tightening his grip on you. You wince, and Dean growls and attempts to get up, but is once again shoved to his knees by the demon standing behind him.

“Ah, ah, ah. Careful, Dean. You might want to get a hold of yourself, because we are only just getting started.” Raum tilts your head to the side slightly and brings his face right next to your neck, inhaling your scent.

You wince away from him again, but he just grips you even tighter and presses the blade down even harder.

“A real sweet one you got here, Dean. Tell me, do all three of you share her?” He asks, looking at Sam, Cass, and then back to Dean. “Because that’s what we did.”

You squeeze your eyes closed in disgust and you hear Dean huff out in anger.

“Did she tell you everything that we did to her? I mean, did she REALLY tell you?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Dean snarls.

“Don’t worry. If she didn’t tell you, we’ll just have to show you. I think Alastair made a mistake separating you guys the first time. I think maybe, I’ll make you watch while I break her instead.”

You open your eyes and look at the boys, and you can see the rage all over their faces as it mixes with fear. This can’t be happening again. You can’t let this happen again. Not after all of this. You’ve come to god damn far.

“Wait.” You whisper.

The demon pauses, looking at you and waiting for you to continue.

“If you let them go, I’ll go with you.” You croak.

“No!” Dean shouts, once again trying to get up, but is shoved back down once again before the demon behind him punches him in the back of the head.

“I won’t fight.” You say. “I’ll go with you. I’ll do whatever you want.”

The boys just look at you, panicked and confused as they listen to you.

“Is that so?” Raum asks, amused.

“Yes.” You state. “Just don’t hurt them and I’ll do whatever you want.”

He grins. “You may turn out to be easier to break than I thought. But why should I do as you ask?”

“Because,” You swallow hard. “I know what you like.”

You watch as Cass looks down in sadness, Dean clenches his jaw as it quivers, and Sam closes his eyes. Their reactions punch you in the gut, but you just ignore them.

“I know what you like.” You repeat, turning your head toward him slightly. “I remember.”

He licks his lips as he looks at you, intrigued. “Do you?”

“Yes.” You say quietly, turning toward him even more. He keeps the knife firmly pressed against your throat, but slightly loosens his grip on your hair.

“Then prove it.” He croons. “Kiss me. Right here, in front of the great Dean Winchester. And then maybe I’ll believe you.”

His request makes you instantly nauseous. You hear Dean growl, and the demon behind him presses firmly on his shoulders to keep him down. You can’t see it, but you know the Mark is glowing on his arm under his jacket. You know, if it wasn’t for this blade against your throat, he’d be fighting back against that demon holding him down.

Although it makes you sick, you turn even further toward the demon, your face only inches from his. You slowly begin to bring your face closer to his, and he grins as he loosens his grip on you a little more.

“Very good. Come here and kiss me. Remind me how good you are.” He demands.

“I’m good at lots of things.” You whisper, your lips coming even closer to his.

“Like what?” He asks, licking his lips.

Suddenly, you stop, your lips nearly brushing his, and narrow your eyes as you look into his.

“Like this.”

You bring your head back quickly and slam it forward, your forehead smashing against the bridge of his nose. As he’s distracted by the pain, you reach out and grab his hand that’s still tightly gripping the knife. As you’re busy wrestling over the knife, Dean instantly jumps to his feet and reaches into his jacket, pulling out the First Blade.

Cass and Sam look at him in surprise, but he doesn’t notice them. He just spins around and lunges at the demon behind him. The other two demons run at him as well, giving Sam and Cass time to run and grab their blades from the ground a few feet away.

While the boys are struggling with the last few demons, you continue to wrestle Raum for the blade in his hand. You almost have it, but out of nowhere his fist connects hard with your face, which disorients you enough for him to shove the blade into your leg.

You scream out, and he grins sadistically. “That’s right about where Alastair got you last time, isn’t it? Or… was it here?” He pulls the blade out only to plunge it in once more a few inches higher.

You scream again and he laughs as he pulls it out again before punching you again, sending you crumbling to the ground. He stands over you, grinning down at you as you grasp your leg and try to remain focused through the haze of pain.

“Fine. If I can’t be the one to finally break you, at least I’ll be able to say I was the one to kill you.” He growls as he lifts the blade. With no time to defend yourself, all you can do is you turn your head away and bring your arm up to try and block the blow.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead, you hear him scream suddenly.

You turn to look, and you watch as a bright light explodes from his eyes and mouth and the knife falls from his hand. His body becomes limp and he crumbles to the ground, and you see Dean standing there. His chest is heaving and his eyes are dark as he stares down at the dead demon. You see the darkness growing in his eyes as he continues to stare, and you see the hand holding the Blade shaking uncontrollably. You can see how hard he’s trying to hold himself back, how badly the Mark wants him to let go completely and beat the demon’s lifeless frame until there’s nothing left.

And for a moment, you think he might.

But then he looks at you.

You watch all the rage fade to concern as he looks you up and down. He drops the blade and rushes to you, dropping to his knees next to you.

“Hey, Sweetheart, hey.” He rasps, trying to keep his voice calm for you. He places one hand on your cheek and you look deep into his eyes, and you can see how relieved he is that you’re still alive. And still conscious. You watch his panicked eyes take in all of your injuries. His eyes freeze when he sees the spot you’re clutching on your leg, and the pool of blood beginning to form underneath it.

“Oh, god.” He breathes.

You had been so distracted by watching him that you had forgotten all about the pain, and it all comes flooding back at once. You wince and grunt as the pain hits you full force, and although you’re trying to mask how bad it really hurts, you know Dean can see right through you. You feel the blood loss beginning to affect you, and you’re finding it harder and harder to stay awake.

“Shit.” Dean whispers. “Hey, you’re gonna be fine. It’s not that bad, okay? It’ll be fine.” He lifts his shirt slightly and begins to undo his belt.

You look at him and chuckle breathlessly as you watch him take off his belt. “Wow, Winchester… you wanna do it right here? Alright… I’m in.”

He lets out a pained laugh as he begins to wrap the belt around the top of your leg to cut off the blood flow. “Hey, there’s that sense of humor, there’s my girl. Stay right here with me.” He tightens the belt and you gasp in pain.

Just then, Sam and Cass rush over and kneel down next to you as well. You can see the worry all over their faces as they look at your wounds and exchange panicked glances with Dean.

“Everybody calm down… I’ve had worse.” You chuckle again, and the pain of doing that causes you to wince again.

Dean continues to try to stop the bleeding, but you can tell by the looks on everyone’s faces it isn’t working.

“Let me.” Cass states, looking at Dean.

You look at Cass and watch as he pushes Dean’s hands away from your leg.

“Cass… no…” You grunt. “You can’t.” You saw how weak he was while battling those demons. For all you know, healing you could literally kill him. And as you look at him right now, you realize just how badly you don’t want that to happen.

He looks deep into your eyes. “It’s the least I can do.” He states, holding his open palms above your wound.

A bright light appears above your leg, and you watch as Cass instantly struggles and grunts, squeezing his eyes closed.

His chest heaves and he grunts once more before the light disappears and he sways to the side, almost falling over before Sam catches him and keeps him upright.

He blinks a few more times. “I’m… I’m alright.”

Dean removes his belt from your leg and you all look down at it to see that the bleeding has stopped slightly. Just enough that you don’t feel yourself fading anymore. But the wounds are still there. And the pain certainly hasn’t gone away.

Cass shakes his head. “I’m sorry… I-I can try again.” He begins to lift his hands again but you reach out and grab his hand.

“No, Cass. “ You state. “You stopped the bleeding enough. I’m gonna be okay. You’ve done enough.” You look deep into his eyes and squeeze his hand tightly. “More than enough.”

Cass nods, and you can see some of the concern and fear fade from the all the boys’ faces. For the first time, you look around the room. You see the bodies littering the floor. You look around at each one of them; remembering each one and everything they did. Burning the image of them like this in your brain, telling yourself that not one of them can ever touch you again. The things that happened to you will never go away. Those memories will never go away. But you realize as you look around, seeing them all powerless to ever hurt you again, that those memories are already beginning to fade.

The boys just watch you silently as you take it all in, all three of them knowing how much you need this. How important this is.

As you look at this scene, as you see every one of your torturers dead on the ground, you feel a weight lifting from your chest. You feel as though you can truly breathe for the first time in so long.

You finally feel free.

You take a deep breath and look between all three of the boys. These boys who risked their lives for your crazy plan. To get you the closure they knew you so greatly needed.  
You smile and look each one of them in the eyes before simply whispering, “Thank you.”

And you don’t need to say any more. They all know what this means to you, and they would all do it all over again in a heartbeat. And you know that, too.

The three of them smile at you, and Dean finally speaks up.

“Alright, gorgeous, that bleeding may have slowed down but we still need to get you home.”

“Yeah,” Sam chimes in, “You are singlehandedly gonna be the reason we run out of first aid supplies.”

“Well, you know me Sammy, just can’t keep myself away from a good fight.” You chuckle, and both boys help lift you and help you stand on your other leg.

As you limp out of the warehouse, the pain coursing through your body is immense. But you don’t care. It’s worth it. You take one last satisfied glance at the dead demons all over the room. Then you close the door on them forever.

You climb into the back seat of the Impala, and the Sam and Dean get into the front. Then, you notice Cass standing hesitantly just outside the car door. Sam and Dean exchange hesitant looks of their own.

You grunt and wince as you lean over, open the door for him, and grin up at him. “Alright, get the Hell in here.”

You see a grin flash across his face as he climbs into the back seat next to you. With that, Dean whips the Impala onto the road, and the four of you drive home in content silence.

When you arrive back to the bunker, the boys have to practically carry you inside. They begin to head towards the infirmary, but you groan. “No, not in there. I hate it in there.” You protest.

“Y/N, you literally have two stab wounds in your leg. You can’t brush this one off. You need to lay down and we need to fix you up.” Sam states.

“There’s a bed in my room.” You reply. “Perfectly suitable for laying down and being fixed up on.”

He rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Fine.”

He runs to the infirmary to get everything needed to clean and stitch your wounds while Cass and Dean help you to your room, and you sit down on the bed with another pained groan. You look up at Dean and open your mouth to speak, but before you get anything out he jumps in.

“Oh, don’t worry, Sweetheart , I know. Be right back.” He smiles and walks out of the room.

Cass furrows his brows and watches Dean leave before looking back to you. “Where is he going?”

You grin up at Cass. “To get me whiskey.”

Cass’ confused expression relaxes to a smile. Then, his smile quickly fades as well as he looks down at his feet.

“Y/N, I-"

“Don’t, Cass. You don’t need to say anything.” You say. “One of the many things I’ve learned being in this life – it’s complicated. And we all do complicated things. Things we aren’t proud of. What you did… it was fucked up.”

He continues looking down shamefully, and you go on.

“But you are not what you did.”

He looks up at you suddenly, his bright blue eyes connecting with yours.

“What you did, that was a long time ago. And I know it was a different lifetime for you. What matters is who you are right now. And I know you. And you are good, Cass.” You state.  
You see the relief and gratitude in his eyes as he begins to smile. “Thank you, Y/N. You are quite good yourself.”

You chuckle. “Hey, how did you know where to be today, anyway?” You ask.

“The Winchesters may have… given me a heads up.” He responds.

“Of course they did.” You say with an amused laugh. “Well, I’m glad they did.”

“I am too.” He says with a smile.

Just then, both of the boys enter the room – Sam with a first aid kit, and Dean with a bottle of whiskey.

Sam begins to set up the first aid materials on the dresser next to you when Dean speaks up.

“Hey, uh… hey, I got this.” He nods to Sam and Cass. “You two go rest up, have a beer.”

Sam and Cass exchange glances and it’s clear they understand Dean wants to be the one to take care of you, and to have some time alone with you.

Sam and Cass both nod and begin to walk out of your room.

“Hey,” You call after them. They both stop, turning to look at you.

“Thank you.” You look at them earnestly. “Again.”

“You don’t ever need to thank us, Y/N.” Sam states with a smile. “This is what family does for each other.”

He and Cass both nod at you once more before they walk out of your room, closing the door behind them.

You turn to Dean, who’s already holding the bottle of whiskey out for you. You smile at him as you grab it and take a swig.

“Alright, pants off.” He says.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Is it always that easy for you to get a girl’s clothes off?” You ask with a playful smirk.

He just grins as he gathers up the supplies needed to clean your wounds. “What can I say, I have a way about me.”

“You certainly do.” You croon as you set the whiskey down and unbutton your jeans. You begin to pull them down, but as soon as you reach the wounds you groan out in pain and realize how difficult it is to pull them down on your own.

As soon as he hears you grunt, Dean whips around to look at you.

“Shit. Sorry.” He mumbles. “Let me help.”

He kneels down on the floor in front of you and slowly helps you peel your bloody jeans off. Once they’re off, he gets a closer look at the injuries on your leg.

“Son of a bitch…” He mutters under his breath.

“Hey,” You whisper. “You already got him. You killed him and saved my life. Remember that, tough guy?” You smile at him.

He grabs the first aid supplies and begins cleaning the wounds, still kneeling in front of you as you sit on the bed. “Oh, I remember. I remember almost losing you, yet again.”

“But you didn’t lose me.” You say. “We won.”

“Yes we did.” He states. “And I’m sorry, about bringin’ the Blade. But I just-"

“If you hadn’t had the Blade we would have lost. I know that. I just… Are you okay?” You ask.

He stops cleaning your wounds and looks up at you. “Yeah. Yeah, I'm alright.”

You can see how hard he’s trying to convince you, but it’s not enough. “Dean…”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “It almost took over.” He opens his eyes and looks at you.

“In that moment, staring down at that demon, I wanted so badly to wail on him until there was nothin’ left. I wanted to let it take over. And I almost did. Even though you were right there, bleeding out on the floor next to me. I almost did. And that scares me.”

“I know.” You say softly. “But you didn’t.”

“What if… what if someday I do?” He asks wearily, looking down at his hands in your lap.

“You won’t.” You state confidently. You take his face in your hands and pull his gaze up to meet yours. “You won’t.”

He studies your face, and you can see the uneasiness in his eyes.

“You told me I would always be the one to bring you back. And you were right. I don’t care what it takes. If you don’t give up on me, I’ll never give up on you.” You look intently into his eyes, promising him that every word you say is true, and reassuring him with the look only the two of you share.

You see him relax, and he leans his face into your touch.

“Why is it that even when you’re the one who’s hurt, you’re always makin’ ME feel better?” He asks.

“Me? Hurt?” You joke. “Nah, I’m fine.”

He smiles. “You will be. I’ll make sure of that.”

He continues to clean your wound and the gentleness of his touch relaxes you, despite the pain. When he begins to stitch you up, you wince and take a swig of the whiskey, but as he goes on you realize he’s somehow managed to make even stitching up the wound feel gentle.

You watch him in awe as he touches you tenderly, and the brush of his calloused fingertips against the bare skin of your inner thigh sends a chill up your spine and sparks to your core.

When he’s finished, he looks up at you, and that’s when he sees the way you’re already looking at him. He instantly returns your heated gaze, and you can feel the air around you shift as it’s filled with the magnetic energy between the two of you.

He licks his lips and slowly brings his face up to yours, his lips connecting with yours as you hold his face tightly in your hands. You press your lips against his and your mouths move together in unison, the push and pull of your tongues perfectly synchronized.

The kiss is slow and gentle, just like his touch. You push his jacket off of his shoulders as he continues to kneel in front of you and as soon as that’s off, you help him lift his t-shirt off as well. He kicks his boots off as he pushes himself off the ground and onto the bed, and you lay down on your back so that his body is directly above yours.

He holds himself up over you with his left forearm on the bed above your head, carefully avoiding the wounds on your leg. All of his movements are slow and purposeful, and he carefully helps you lift your own bra and t-shirt off with his right hand. As soon as they are off, he takes a deep breath as his eyes scan your body in awe. His rough hand softly grips the side of your neck as he leans down to kiss you once more. He trails his hand very slowly down the side of your neck, over your breasts and stomach, down to your hips, and then back up.

His touch is so soft that it gives you goosebumps and you feel yourself aching for him. You wrap your arms around his back, returning his gentle touch by moving your hands slowly from the bottom of his back up to his shoulders. He inhales sharply at your gentle touch as he continues to kiss you, and you grip his shoulders tightly from behind his back, pulling him even further into the kiss and pulling his bare chest down to brush against yours.

You arch your body up into the warm feeling of his bare skin, and he brings his hand down to carefully pull off your panties while you begin to unbuckle and unzip his pants. Neither of you say a word through any of this. The only sounds in the room are both of your needy, breathless pants as you pull each other’s clothing off.

Once you’re both completely bare, he looks down at you, his sage green eyes connecting with yours and studying you intently. He still doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t have to. And neither do you. This look that you share, that you have always shared, pierces through you to your soul and expresses every ounce of love all at once.

As he looks at you, he tenderly reaches down and helps you wrap your injured leg around his waist.

Then, he slowly pushes himself inside of you.

In that instant, you both gasp, the pleasure radiating through both of you to your cores. He presses his mouth down on yours, and the two of you moan into each other’s open lips as he begins to pump into you.

Just as he has this entire time, he moves gently as he pulls himself out of you and pushes back in. His strokes are long and deliberate and every time he fills you up again, you’re nearly blinded by how good he feels inside you. He fills you completely, and he wraps one arm around your back to steady himself and hit you at the perfect angle each and every time.

His other hand holds the side of your face tenderly as he continues to kiss you lovingly. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck and move with him each time he thrusts, creating a perfect, fluid rhythm between the two of you that only increases the pleasure further.

He pulls away from the kiss and looks down at you, looking surprised by just how incredible it feels. That somehow, each time you’re together it feels even better, and you feel even more connected. As you lock gazes with him, your surroundings become nothing but a blur. He looks down at you as if it’s the first time he’s ever seeing you, and the last time he ever will all at once.

He presses into you even deeper, and that’s all that it takes for the both of you to reach your breaking points. Every orgasm he gives you is incredible, and yet this one feels unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. You can feel that it’s the same for him as he continues his long, gentle movements and you ride out the overwhelming pleasure together.  
He thrusts into you a few more times, and kisses you deeply as he does. Then, he collapses on his back next to you and the two of you lay there, chests heaving and hearts pounding.

“Well, you’ve made me a believer.” He pants, still staring up at the ceiling.

You turn to him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ve dealt with angels. Been blown off by God. Been screwed over in what was supposed to be Heaven. And all that only made me believe in it all even less. But, that… right there, with you…” He turns to look at you. “Well, Sweetheart, that’s what Heaven really is.”

Your heart skips a beat and you smile at him. “I could say the same to you, Winchester.”

“C’mere.” He breathes as he lifts the blanket for the two of you to climb under. He carefully helps you under the blanket, and you lay on his chest as he wraps an arm tightly around you and his fingertips softly brush your shoulder. You lay there in silence, contentedly listening to the sound of each other breathing, until the beating of his heart lulls you to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright... so, I realize this may be a great place to end this whole thing.
> 
> But I'm just not ready to let go. So I hope you aren't either.
> 
> I have plenty more in store for these guys.
> 
> As always, thank you SO MUCH for reading!


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What will happen now that they've finally gotten revenge for the reader?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, Happy New Year!!!!
> 
> I know, it's been two whole weeks since I posted anything. Very unlike me. I am the worst.
> 
> That is only because of the holiday season and all the craziness it brings, but I have been missing this story so much and I'm so happy to get back to it. Hope you are too.
> 
> This chapter continues to follow the story line of Season 9, but as always, with my own spin on everything.
> 
> Please, please enjoy!

You wake up to the feeling of fingertips gently tracing up and down your back. When you crack your eyes open, you look up to find Dean staring down at you, studying your face intently.

“Hey there, handsome.” You rasp with a smile. “What’s going on in that brain?”

“Nothin’.” He answers quietly. “Just… you know I love you, right?”

You furrow your brows. “Of course. Why are you-"

“I just need you to always know. No matter what. You’re somethin’ special to me. No matter what happens, always remember that you’re… you’re the one.”

You sit up slightly, now concerned. “Dean, what is going on?”

He takes your face in his hands, his eyes now suddenly pleading with yours. “Just promise me, Sweetheart. Promise me that you know that.”

You don’t know why he’s saying these things. Why it’s suddenly so urgent for you to acknowledge them. And it scares you. But you see the desperation in his eyes, so you nod your head subtly.

“I know, Dean. I promise. I know.”

He relaxes slightly and nods before whispering, “Good.”

You gently place your hands on top of his. “Hey.” You whisper, looking into his eyes. “You’re scaring me. What is going on?”

He just licks his lips and looks down, his brow slightly furrowed. Somehow, you can sense what he’s feeling. Your hand moves from his hand to his forearm, and you gently touch the Mark.

“It’s this, isn’t it?” You ask quietly.

He just continues looking down.

“Every single morning.” He states. “I feel it more.”

Your heart jumps into your throat and you swallow hard, but you don’t say anything.

His bright green eyes come up to connect with yours as he goes on.

“No matter how amazing the night before is with you. No matter how hard I try to pull you closer into my chest to make it go away - and believe me, I try - I still… I feel it more.”

Your heart aches with the way he looks at you, his eyes so vulnerable and so ashamed of admitting the thing he’s been trying so hard to deny for so long.

You just look at him, trying desperately to assure him with your own gaze that he’s going to be alright, but you know the concern blooming in your chest must be reflecting in your eyes. You continue to hold him tightly, trying to comfort him and ground him all at once.

“It’s okay.” You whisper. “It’s gonna be okay.”

He just looks back down, his jaw clenching as he tries to keep himself together.

“It’s just been a crazy few days, okay? That’s all. You’re adrenaline has been going and you’ve had to use the blade and it’s just making this a little harder than usual right now.” You state. “You just need some time to unwind.”

He just continues looking down, so you lean closer to him and put your hand on the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“Hey.” You say. He looks up at you.

“Do you remember what you said to me yesterday morning before everything?” You ask.

He nods subtly but doesn’t respond.

“You told me that after it was all done, we were gonna lay in bed and not leave for a week. And I think…” You lean ever closer to him and whisper, “that’s exactly what we need to do.”

You grin at him, and you feel the tension begin to leave his body.

“You and me, tough guy. In bed. Drinks. Food. Netflix. And lots of sex.” You say with a smirk.

With that, he smiles back. “Or we could skip the first three and head straight for the ‘lots of sex’.”

“There he is.” You croon. You pull him in for a long, deep, kiss and when you pull back you find him studying your face intently.

“I meant what I said.” He drawls. “You are the one. The only one for me. Only one there’s ever been and only one there ever will be.”

You feel those damn butterflies again. You grin and kiss him once more before pulling away.

“I could say the same to you, Winchester.”

He chuckles, but you continue to look at him earnestly.

“Really, though.” You say. “You know I’m not much for the feelings and all that, but… you’re it, Dean. You are all there is for me. The only one.”

You continue to gaze at each other, the air consumed by the energy between the two of you. You smile once more before crawling out of bed and beginning to get dressed, the pain in your leg no match for the excitement you feel when you look at Dean.

“And I am gonna prove to you why I’m the only one for you Dean Winchester, because I am about to make you the most bangin’ breakfast burrito you have ever had.” You state as you pull on one of his t-shirts.

He shakes his head in awe. “You saying the phrase ‘bangin' breakfast burrito’, wearin’ nothin’ but my t-shirt, may just be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You lean toward him slightly and whisper, “Wait ‘til you see me eating one.” You wink, pulling on a pair of jeans.

He laughs and gets out of bed, and begins to get dressed himself. “You go ahead and get those burritos going.” He grins. “I’ll be right behind you.”

You smile back at him before turning to make your way out of the room and limping down the hall.

Just then, you run into Cass and Sam in the library.

“Mornin’, fellas.” You state. It’s then that you notice the looks on their faces as they stare into the map room.

“What’s going on?” You ask.

Just then, you look into the map room as well and you see someone. He’s tall, square-jawed, and muscular. He’s wearing a leather jacket and jeans and is very cautiously walking toward the three of you.

You can tell by the way the boys tense up that they know who he is. Dean enters the room behind you and sees what’s going on.

“I’m not here to fight.” He states, lifting his hands in surrender. “I’m here because… because you’re right. Metatron needs to be stopped. And I want to help stop him.”

“Is this who I think it is?” You ask.

“Gadreel.” Dean states through gritted teeth.

You remember everything the boys told you about him. About how he betrayed Dean, what he did to Sam and what he made Sam do, and everything he’s continued to do to help Metatron. And you may not have known Kevin, but the boys told you enough about him for you to care about what was done to him. And how it affected them.

With that, you limp a few steps forward until you’re only about a foot in front of him, despite protests from all the boys.

“Well, hey there, Gadreel.” You state cockily.

He looks at you quizzically. “Do I know you?” He asks.

“Nope.” You state flatly. You lean forward slightly and narrow your eyes. “But you’re about to.”

With that, you bring your fist forward out of nowhere and punch him in the jaw, catching him by surprise and knocking him back a few steps. Sam instantly rushes forward and grabs you, pulling you away from Gadreel.

“Jesus, Y/N.” Sam states. “We have no idea what he’s capable of right now! Or what weapons he has.”

“I don’t care.” You state confidently. “Someone had to.” You glance over at Dean to find him smirking slightly in pride at you before returning his gaze to Gadreel, his eyes going dark once more.

Gadreel just rubs his jaw before looking at you. “I understand I deserved that. I’ve… made mistakes. But I know where Metatron is. And I can give him to you. Please… give me a chance.”

You watch as everyone silently considers everything Gadreel had to say. To your surprise, you watch as Dean begins to take a few steps forward toward him. You hold your breath wondering what he’s possibly thinking.

To your shock, he offers his hand to Gadreel. But something doesn’t feel right. You know him too well, the connection you have with him is too strong for you not to sense when something's off. And something’s off.

As Gadreel reaches his hand out to shake Dean’s, you see Dean begin to reach behind his back underneath his flannel. Before you have a chance to react, he whips out the First Blade and slashes it across Gadreel’s chest.

You, Sam, and Cass instantly react, all three of you rushing forward to stop Dean from stabbing at Gadreel again. You reach him first and grab his left arm as his right one is still swinging the Blade, and the way you pull him causes the Blade to swing in your direction. You put your hand up just in time to block it and the Blade slices through your palm.

You shout in surprise and Cass wraps his arms around Dean from behind, pulling him backward and trying to calm him down. You just grasp your injured hand as Cass and Sam look at you in concern, but you nod at them to assure you’re alright.

Dean is shouting and gripping the Blade tightly, so overwhelmed with rage that he doesn’t even notice that he hurt you.

“Dean!” Sam shouts. “Drop the Blade!”

Dean just continues growling, his eyes refusing to focus on his brother or hear what he’s saying.

“Let it go.” Sam says. “Dean, let it go.”

Dean growls again, panting out harshly through his nose.

You take a step toward him, your eyes boring into him.

“Dean.” You state assertively.

He looks at you, still gripping the Blade tightly and growling out his breaths.

You feel his gaze truly connect with yours, and know that he’s finally really looking at you.

“Drop the Blade.” You command.

You watch as his eyes look from yours, down to the palm you’re still grasping tightly, which is now dripping with blood. You see realization wash over him and his body relaxes. His eyes connect with yours again just as he lets the Blade slip from his hand and clatter to the floor.

You see the guilt overtake his features as Sam and Cass continue to pull him backwards, dragging him to the dungeon.

As much as you want to follow, your hand is now bleeding pretty badly and you don’t want Dean to see it and feel even more guilty than he already does. So, you quickly limp your way to the infirmary to grab something to clean and wrap it up with.

Once you’ve done that, you rush to the dungeon just in time to find Cass and Sam walking out, slamming the door closed behind them. When you walk up to open the door, the two of them physically usher you down the hall and away from the dungeon, and with your injured leg it’s tough to fight against their pull. They stop in the library where you yank yourself away from them angrily.

“What the hell are you doing?” You demand.

“He needs to cool down, Y/N.” Sam states.

“Yeah, but not alone!” You shout, turning to try and walk back toward the dungeon. Cass just blocks your way and you glare at him.

“He hurt you, Y/N.” Cass states, looking down at your hand.

“It was an accident.” You snap back.

“He could’ve killed you.” Sam says.

You roll your eyes and turn to Sam. “Come on, Sam. He would never do that.”

“The real Dean wouldn’t. But that, right there… that wasn’t him. Something is seriously wrong with him. I mean… did you know he had the Blade on him?”

You don’t answer. You just stare back at him. You’ve already thought about that. About the fact that as soon as you left the bedroom this morning, he felt the need to have the Blade on him. That the Mark is becoming so strong he can’t even walk around the bunker without having the Blade right next to him at all times. And no matter how you look at it, that's a terrifying thought.

“It doesn’t matter.” You mutter. “I told him I’m not giving up on him. So if you two are so determined to leave him in there, fine. I’ll be staying in there with him.” You turn to walk in that direction again and Sam reaches a hand out and places it gently on your arm.

“Y/N… please. You want to go in there, fine. I get it. I do. But just… please give him a few minutes to calm down. And help us figure out what to do next.”

You glare at him, but as they always do, his giant puppy dog eyes soften you slightly. You sigh.

“Fine. A couple minutes. But then I’m going in.”

“Thank you.” Sam breathes in relief.

He grabs a metal box and places it on the table, securing the Blade inside of it.

“Gadreel says he can help us.” Sam states. “Let’s see if that’s true.”

You all start toward the map room, and it’s then that the three of you realize he’s gone. You rush into the room, but all that remains is a pool of blood.

“Dammit!” Sam shouts. “He said he wanted to help.”

“Well, Dean did just try to kill him. I can’t say I’m surprised that he would choose to run.” Cass answers.

“Yeah, but… if he can help, then we need him. We need to end this.” Sam says.

“You guys go after him.” You state. “I’m not leaving Dean.”

They both look at you hesitantly.

“Hey, he is not going to hurt me, alright?” You assure. “And he needs me. Let me keep an eye on him. You guys need to go find Gadreel before it’s too late.”

With that, they both nod. They know you’re going to do what you want despite their protesting anyway, and they know they don’t have the time to argue. They both turn and rush up the stairs and out the door.

You take a deep breath before making your way toward the dungeon. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t worried about what state he might be in when you go in there. But it doesn’t matter. You’re here for him. And you’re going to get him through this.

You’re determined to get that week alone in bed with Dean Winchester.

When you reach the door, you take a deep breath, grab the handle, and head inside.

Slowly, you open the doors and walk through to find Dean standing there.

Next to Crowley.

What the Hell?

As you walk in, they both look at you in surprise.

“What’s going on here, boys?” You ask, looking between the two of them.

Neither of them respond at first.

“I… I thought you’d be with Sam and Cass. Figuring out some kind of plan.” Dean states.

“I’m not leaving you alone, Dean. Ever. I told you that. I meant it.” You say.

He doesn’t answer, but you see his eyes focus on your wrapped up hand. After a few seconds, he speaks up.

“I…” He whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

You step toward him.

“I’m fine. It was an accident, okay? It’s fine.” You assure.

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not. And that’s why he’s here.” He nods to Crowley.

You look at Crowley in confusion, then back to Dean. “What do you mean?”

“I gotta get outta here, Y/N. I gotta get away from here. And if we really do have a shot at Metatron, I gotta take it.”

“Like Hell you do.” You state. “Not like this. And not alone.”

“He won’t be alone.” Crowley chimes in.

You look at Crowley. You don’t say anything, but the daggers your eyes are glaring in his direction get your message across.

You look back to Dean. “Don’t do this. We can figure it out together, okay? All of us.”

He shakes his head again. “No.”

You take another step forward, your eyes pleading with his to hear you out.

“Dean…” You whisper.

“Sweetheart…” He rasps. “I love you. And I can’t risk hurting you again. You have to let me do this. And you have to stay here.” You can see the pain in his eyes as he says this.

“Fuck that.” You state in frustration. “You know better. You know I-"

“I know.” He cuts you off. “Trust me, I know. You don’t do as you’re told. And I can’t make you.” He looks down briefly and his jaw clenches, before he looks back up at you with apologetic eyes.

“But he can.” He states, nodding to Crowley.

Your eyes suddenly snap to Crowley. “No.” You state, looking frantically between the two of them. “Do not do this.” You look at Dean, your eyes once again pleading.

“Dean, please.”

He just looks back at you, his eyes anguished. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart.”

You look at him for a few more brief seconds before looking back to Crowley. “Crowley… don’t you dare.”

Crowley looks apologetic as well as he raises his hand, his fingers pressed together. “Sorry, love.”

With that, he snaps his fingers.

And suddenly, you’re standing in your room, the door closed in front of you. You lunge forward and grab the handle, but it won’t budge.

“God dammit!” You shout, desperately pulling at the handle and using all the strength you have to try to push the door open.

“Dean!” You shout, pounding on the door. “Don’t do this!”

Panic begins to overwhelm you as you realize this door isn’t budging. You know Crowley and Dean are probably grabbing the Blade right now and leaving together. And then Dean will go after Metatron. Alone. And you have no idea how powerful Metatron is at this point. Dean could lose.

Or, he could win. He could kill Metatron with the Blade and the Mark might completely take over for good.

Either way, you could lose him.

Your panic grows as all of these thoughts swirl in your mind and you throw your body against the door with even more force. The pain of the wounds on your leg screams every time you do this, but you’re too desperate to care. You throw yourself against the door once more.

And then you feel the stiches in your leg rip apart.

You shout in pain and drop to the floor, clutching your leg. You watch as the wounds instantly begin to bleed through your jeans, a pool of blood already forming beneath you. You look around for your phone, but realize it’s nowhere in sight. Crowley may be a lot of things, but he isn’t dumb. He must have anticipated you would try to call Sam and send him after them before they had time to get away. So he made sure your phone wasn’t in here.

What he probably didn’t anticipate, though, was that you would fight so hard to get your door open that you’d reopen your wounds and bleed all over the damn floor.

“Shit.” You breathe, squeezing your eyes closed in pain and leaning your head back against the end of the bed.

You’re not sure how long you stay this way, you just know the pool of blood beneath you continues to grow, you continue to feel more and more tired, and it continues to get harder to maintain pressure on your leg as your strength slowly leaves you.

Suddenly, you hear the door to the bunker slamming closed. You aren’t sure at first who it is, but after only a few more moments you hear Sam’s voice shouting your name.

“Sam!” You yell weakly.

You hear footsteps approaching your door.

“Y/N?!”

“Yeah, Sam, in here.” You say. “The door. It won’t open.”

You watch the knob jiggle and hear him grunt as he pushes against the door. After a few more grunts and bangs, he finally busts the door open and looks down at you.

“Oh god, Y/N!” He cries out, kneeling down next to you and helping you apply pressure to your leg, his eyes scanning you up and down in panic.

“I’m okay.” You breathe.

He exhales sharply. “Yeah, yeah, you always are. But if you saw how pale you look right now you’d understand my concern.”

You chuckle. “I’m always pale. It’s fine. Just need you to stitch me up again.”

“Yeah,” He nods, “Yeah, of course.” You wince as he helps you to your feet, and helps you limp down the hall.

“What the hell happened, Y/N?” He asks as you walk. “Where’s Dean?”

“Gone.” You state. “He… summoned Crowley. To help him get out. And to no doubt help him get the Blade. He wants to go after Metatron. Alone.”

You and Sam look at each other and you can tell he sees the guilt in your eyes.

“I begged him to stay, Sam. But Crowley just locked me in my room. I tried to get out. I tried so fucking hard.”

“Yeah,” Sam lets out a distressed chuckle, looking down at your leg, “Yeah, I think that’s pretty obvious.”

He helps you limp into the library, where you see both Cass and Gadreel.

They both look surprised when they see your condition, and Cass rushes up to you in concern.

“Y/N! What happened?” He asks.

“Dean summoned Crowley.” Sam states angrily. “Who locked her in her room so they could make a getaway.”

Cass looks at you, wide-eyed.

“I threw myself at the door so hard I busted my stitches.” You state.

Sam hands you off to Cass so that he can run to get a first aid kit, and Cass helps you sit down at one of the tables.

Sam returns quickly and slices your jeans so that he can re-stitch your wounds and wrap your leg up. As he does this, you tell them all the details of what happened, and everything Dean said to you, and that you knew as soon as they locked you in your room they’d be taking the Blade and leaving.

“So that’s what Dean cut me with.” Gadreel says. “The First Blade. In a way, that could be useful. Metatron is more powerful than ever but if Dean has both the Blade and the Mark, he may be our best chance.”

“You’re kidding, right?” You ask, glaring at Gadreel.

“He’s off the rails.” Sam says. “We’re not doing that.”

“Guys, hear him out.” Cass reasons.

“What the hell, Cass!” You shout.

“Seriously?” Sam goes on. “Sorry, but I’m not just gonna hand him the Blade and let him destroy himself for the sake of killing Metatron. It’s too risky. He isn’t a weapon. He’s my brother.”

“Your brother wouldn’t be in this alone.” Gadreel says. “We can help.”

“How?” Sam asks.

Gadreel goes on to explain that he Metatron is getting his powers from the Angel tablet. Meaning that right now, he has powers equivalent to God.

And Dean is going after him without any of you.

Great.

Eventually, the four of you agree that Cass and Gadreel will head to Heaven while you and Sam try to find Dean. When the two of them leave, you and Sam instantly begin brainstorming ways to find Dean. And you both know where to start.

Metatron.

You both begin to scour the web, looking for anything you can find. Strange weather patterns, bright flashes of light, any kind of God-like power displayed anywhere.  
And then it hits you.

“Sam…” You mutter. “Maybe we should be looking for a miracle.”

“Hah. Yeah. It feels like it’s gonna take one at this point.” He responds.

“No.” You state. “No, I mean… in order to find Metatron. Maybe we should be looking up miracles that have happened recently.”

“Metatron’s a dick.” Sam says. “I don’t exactly think he’s concerned about giving out miracles. Especially not to humans.”

“Well, from what you guys have told me about him, it seems like all he wants is to literally BE God. But not just for the power. For the fame. For the notoriety. Best way for him to get that down here… would be performing a miracle for the whole world to see.” You say.

Sam just stares at you for a few seconds. “You’re right.”

Right away, he begins clicking away on his keyboard and within a moment a smile creeps across his face.

“Y/N, you are a genius.” He says, as he spins the laptop around and you see a video of a woman’s life being saved.

You look at the man in the video. “THAT’s Metatron?!” You ask.

“Yup.” Sam replies.

“Yikes.” You state.

Sam exhales a chuckle. “Tell me about it.”

After watching the video all the way through, Sam figures out where it happened and decides to head there in search of Dean. You both know it’s pretty likely that if you found the video, Crowley and Dean probably did, too.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” You ask as you stand with a wince. “Let’s go.”

Sam stands as well, but he just looks at you, and you can tell by his hesitation to speak that you already know what he’s going to say.

“No, Sam. No way.” You state firmly.

“Y/N…” He begins.

“You’re not doing this without me. I need to go after him, too. He needs both of us.” You say.

“I know he does. But… you’re hurt. Like, ‘seriously could die if those things get ripped open again’ hurt. It’s not safe.” He reasons.

“To Hell with safe.” You spit. “I don’t care about being safe. I care about him.”

Just then, you begin to walk around the table to get closer to Sam and the pain coursing through your leg is so great that your leg gives out and you nearly collapse, just barely catching yourself on the table.

It’s then that you realize, as much as you hate to admit it, Sam’s right.

You don’t care about the risk to your safety. That’s worth it to save Dean. But that isn’t truly the problem. The problem is, you’re a liability. You’re weak right now. You won’t be useful in a fight. You won’t be able to run if it’s needed. And you’d be an easy target for Metatron to use against Dean if he got the chance.

Anger bubbles in your chest as this realization washes over you, and you look up at Sam in frustration. He just looks back at you, clearly feeling terrible, knowing how helpless you must feel. Your heart is screaming out to you that you need to go. That you need to be there, to help them win this fight. But your head is telling you that you won’t be any help at all. It’s excruciating, accepting that you’re completely helpless in this fight. You hate being helpless. And you hate being weak. But right now, it’s not about you.

“I’ll help him. He won’t face Metatron alone.” Sam states, taking a confident step toward you.

“Y/N… We will end this. And then I will bring him home.” Sam promises.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, before looking deeply into Sam’s eyes.

“You better.”

With that, you let him leave. Without you.

He hugs you goodbye and promises you once more that he will bring Dean home.

And as hard as it is, you have no choice but to trust him.

Slowly, you make your way to your room and lay down in the still messed-up sheets. The sheets that merely hours ago, you were laying in with Dean. Where you agreed to stay in bed together for a week.

How the Hell did you get here?

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, silently praying that he’s okay. Silently sending a message to him that you're here for him. That everything will be okay. That you love him.

And that he needs to come home to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!!!
> 
> I always appreciate your feedback, it means so much to me.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will the reader really be able to hang back while the boys go after Metatron?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!
> 
> Once again, we are continuing on with Season 9. Once again, I'm going to shake it up just a little.
> 
> And once again, I really hope you enjoy.

Hours.

It’s been hours now since Sam left, and you haven’t gotten so much as a text.

If your god damn leg didn’t hurt so much, you’d be pacing around the bunker by now.

Instead, you’re sitting in the library, staring down at your cell phone and trying desperately to fight the images of all the ways this plan could go wrong.

You’ve already considered jumping in your truck and going after them. In fact, you’ve considered it about 30 times.  
But you just keep telling yourself that that will do more harm than good. That in your current state, sitting here, waiting is your best option.

But that doesn’t make it easy.

You decide to call Dean’s cell. For about the hundredth time. But once again, it goes straight to voicemail.

Next, you call Sam. Straight to voicemail.

You slam your phone down onto the table and sigh, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath and trying to keep yourself composed.

Then, your phone rings.

Your eyes snap open and you look down, and you’re flooded with relief and fear all at once when you see Dean’s name on the screen. You grab the phone in a shaky hand and answer it.

“Dean?!”

His voice is almost… calm.

“Hey, there, Sweetheart.”

You feel your entire body relax as the sound of his voice washes over you.

“Dean…”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. When Sammy told me you agreed to stay back, I couldn’t believe it. I know how hard this must be for you.”

Sam. He’s with Sam. You take a deep breath and relax even further.

“He told me about your leg.” Dean goes on. “I shoulda known my girl would fight so hard she’d bust a seam.” He chuckles slightly.

“Nothing a few new stitches and some whiskey couldn’t fix.” You answer.

“I’m sorry.” You can hear the guilt and concern in his tone. “Seems like every single time I think I’m keeping you safe, you end up getting hurt even more.”

“I’ll be fine. The only thing I need right now is for you to come home to me.” You utter.

“I will. There’s just somethin’ I gotta do first.” He states.

“You mean something you and Sam have to do, right?” You ask. “What’s the plan?”

He doesn’t respond, and your fear begins to return.

“Dean… where is Sam?”

“Sammy’s uh… Sammy’s hangin’ back at the car.” He rasps. You can tell by the way he’s breathing, he’s walking somewhere. Quickly.

Your heart is starting to pound.

“No, Dean… what did you do? What’s going on?” You ask in desperation.

“I found him. Metatron. I’m gonna take the little bastard out, once and for all. I’m gonna end this. Right now. And there’s only one way to do that.” He answers.

So that’s it. He’s determined to use the Blade. He’s still going in alone.

“Don’t do this.” You beg. “Not alone.”

“I don’t have a choice. Sammy wouldn’t let me do it my way. And I understand why. But it has to be this way.” He states.  
“Fine, you can do it your way.” You plead. “You can do it any way you want, just please don’t do it alone. Tell me where you are. I’ll be there. I won’t even try to stop you, just please let me be there with you.”

“I can’t do that, Y/N. You know I can’t.” You hear a sadness in his tone, and that’s how you know he’s made up his mind. That no matter how much you beg, it won’t change anything.

“I just uh… I just wanted to hear that voice.” He drawls.

You feel your heart dropping into your stomach.

“What was it you said to me?” You ask. “Don’t do that ‘I love you and goodbye crap’?”

He chuckles. “Not goodbye, Gorgeous. But I do love you.”

You squeeze your eyes closed when you hear him say it.

“I love you too, Dean.”

“Don’t forget… you’re the only one for me.” He murmurs.

The lump in your throat stops you from answering.

“Come on, Sweetheart. Say it.” He whispers.

And you know exactly what he means.

“I could say the same to you, Winchester.” You breathe.

“There’s my girl.” You can tell by the way he sounds, he’s smiling. “I’ll see you soon.”

With that, he hangs up the phone.

You put your phone down. You just sit there, staring down at the table, processing everything. You take a deep, shaky breath and squeeze your eyes closed once more.

You’re feeling so many things at once. And yet you can’t feel any of them at all. You’re numb. You’re completely and utterly helpless. You have no choice but to wait and to hope that the man you love will come back to you. 

And it’s absolutely excruciating.

Another hour goes by, and then another, and you realize you can’t take it any longer. The sitting. The waiting. The wondering. You stand suddenly, the pain in your leg now dulled by the concern overwhelming you.

You rush up the stairs and out of the bunker, straight for your truck in the garage. You know the general direction Sam was headed when he left. You’ll start there. You’re a hunter, for Christ’s sake. You’ll find them. You don’t care what it takes. You’ll find them. But you sure as Hell can’t wait around any longer, injury or not.

You open the garage door, start your truck, and are about you throw it into reverse when you suddenly see headlights pulling up in the rear view mirror, just outside the garage. You turn the truck off and jump out and an overwhelming sense of relief washes over you as you continue to watch Baby pull up closer.

A grin spreads across your face and your heart begins to flutter as you rush toward the Impala. You feel yourself smiling even wider as the driver’s side door opens and the headlights shut off.

But it’s then that you see who’s stepping out, and your steps begin to slow down. You watch as Sam closes the driver’s side door, and your eyes instantly flash to the passenger side.

Which is empty.

Your heart is once again beating out of control as you continue to walk toward Sam, your steps now hesitant and slow. Once you’re only a couple feet from him, it’s then that you truly see his face.

And your heart sinks.

His eyes are red and swollen and as your eyes connect with his, you can feel the emotion pouring out of him. You can see the guilt and devastation all over his face.

“Sam…” You whisper, your jaw already quivering.

He just looks at you, tears brimming in his eyes. It’s then that you see he’s not only sad for himself, he’s sad for you.

“No.” You croak, shaking your head.

He just furrows his brows and looks down, unable to bear the heartbreak all over your face. You step closer to him.

“Sammy, no.” Your voice is a desperate plea, begging him to tell you that what you’re thinking can’t be true.

He just looks up at you again, tears running down his cheeks. You feel tears of your own now beginning to sting your eyes.

“Where…” You breathe, unable to even finish your question.

Sam’s eyes very briefly flash to the backseat of the car before flicking back to you urgently, as if he didn’t mean to guide your eyes in that direction and doesn’t want you to look.

But it’s too late. You take another step forward, turning your head to peer into the backseat.

“Y/N, don’t.” Sam croaks, reaching his hands out to stop you.

But he can’t stop you.

You push him away and lean even closer, holding your breath as you finally get a view of the backseat.

And you see Dean. Lying there dead, covered in blood.

A painful gasp rips from your throat as the sight punches you in the gut. Sam reaches out to you again, grabbing your upper arms and pushing you backward to get the image out of your line of sight.

You gasp again but it comes out as more of a broken cry as realization washes over you and your heart feels as though it’s being ripped from your chest.

“No.” You huff, looking up at Sam and once again studying his pained eyes. “No.” You repeat, breathlessly.

As his eyes once again connect with yours, and you see all the pity and heartache in them, it hits you that this is really happening.

Dean Winchester is dead.

Your legs begin to feel weak and your head begins to spin as your vision blurs and you stumble backward, away from Sam. You shake your head, trying to shake out the knowledge of what’s happening. To shake out the crushing pain you’re feeling all over your body.

“No.” You whisper again, looking down. Your eyes are scanning all over the ground, searching for something, anything to focus on.

“No, no, no, NO!” You cry out as your legs give out beneath you and you fall to your knees.

You stay there on your knees, your hands grasping at the ground, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks as you choke out broken sobs.

Sam just stands there, his own tears continuing to fall, watching you silently. Knowing in this moment, there is absolutely nothing he can do to comfort you. Or himself.

Your sobs begin to fade into nothing more than breathless pants as you remain on your knees, the tears continuing to fall from your eyes and onto the ground in front of you.

You feel as though every muscle in your body is ready to give out.

You feel as if your heart is consuming itself.

You feel like you could die right here, right now.

You feel utterly and completely…

Broken.

Suddenly, through your haze of grief, you think you feel the ground beneath you starting to shake. Then, you’re certain you do, as the shaking becomes increasingly more violent. Your eyes go wide as they flash up to Sam, and you see him looking down at you, wide-eyed as well.

This violent earthquake continues for a few more long seconds, and you swear you hear rumbling in the distance just before the shaking abruptly stops.

You and Sam both stare at each other, speechless, as realization washes over both of you.

The Cage.

Neither of you say anything. You can both clearly see that you know what’s happened. And you can both clearly see that as worried as you should probably be, you’re just not.

Right now, without Dean… the Devil himself could show up on your doorstep and you wouldn’t feel afraid. You wouldn’t feel a damn thing.

You and Sam eventually bring the Impala inside the garage. Your heart breaks all over again as you watch Sam carry his big brother to his bedroom. You offered to help, but Sam insisted he would do it on his own. He said it’s because you’re still hurt, but you know it’s because he just wanted to hold him again.

And you can’t blame him for that.

You feel your body quaking as Sam places Dean down in his bed. You realize the tears still haven’t stopped dropping down your face. Sam looks down at his brother once more before turning to you. You look at him, both of you red-eyed and exhausted, and he suddenly strides over to you and urgently wraps his giant arms tightly around you.

You melt into him, squeezing him just as tight, and bury your face into his chest as you sob out once more. He rests his chin on your head and squeezes his eyes closed as more tears fall down his cheeks.

You stay this way for a few moments, holding each other and trying desperately to escape the pain that you know is eating you both alive. Eventually, he pulls away and looks down at you.

“I’m gonna go pour us some drinks.” He says quietly, before glancing to his brother once more. He looks back at you. 

“Take your time.”

You nod at him, and he exits the room.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you take a few hesitant steps towards Dean. You swallow hard as you lean down and take his blood-coated hand in your own. You gasp instantly at the feeling of his cold skin, and you lower yourself down to sit on the edge of the bed, facing him, holding his hand in your lap.

You squeeze his hand tightly as your eyes scan up and down his lifeless body. A lump forms once more in your throat when you see the wound on his chest, and you slowly bring your eyes up to land on his colorless face.

You gently reach your hand out and place it on his face, and you let out a small sob when you feel his stubble on your palm. You want so desperately to kiss those lips one more time. To once more look into those bright green irises.

You’d give anything. You’d do anything.

No.

You WILL give anything.

You WILL do anything.

Because this is not the end. It can’t be. You promised him you would never give up on him. And you’re not going to. You and Sam will mourn. But you and Sam will also stop at nothing to bring him back.

Of that, you are absolutely certain.

“Remember what you said? I will always be the one to bring you back.” You whisper as you rub his face gently. “Well, tough guy, I’m going to bring you back.”

You squeeze his hand once more and kiss it tenderly before placing it down on his chest and standing up on shaky legs.

You take a deep breath as you look down at him once more before turning to walk out of his room.

You walk into the library to see Sam sitting in the dark, two glasses of whiskey already poured. You pull up a chair and sit down next to him, taking a glass in your hand. Neither of you say anything, you simply nod as you lift your glasses and each finish them in a single gulp.

You grab the bottle and refill each glass.

“He… he wanted me to tell you something.” Sam whispers.

You feel your chest tighten as you look at him, waiting for him to continue.

“He said… ‘tell her I’m real sorry I didn’t remember her that first night’”.

You let out a chuckle that’s half laugh and half sob as the tears once again fill your eyes, and Sam continues.

“’Tell her she will always be the one’”.

Your jaw quivers as the tears fall.

“’And… tell her that I’m not sure if I’m going to Heaven, but… if I am… I hope it’s the same one I experience every time with her.’”

You gasp out one more small sob but smile through the tears and close your eyes as you imagine Dean’s voice saying those things.

You open your eyes and look at Sam. “Thank you.” You whisper.

He just nods and the two of you down another whole glass. You once again refill each of your glasses and the two of you sit in silence for a couple more moments.

Eventually, Sam speaks up again.

“Metatron was too strong. And I was too late.” He croaks.

“You did everything you could, Sammy. Dean made up his mind. His stubborn, persistent, obstinate, pig-headed…”   
Your voice breaks slightly “…brave… mind.”

“Yeah,” Sam lets out a pained chuckle. “Yeah, he did.”

You each finish another glass, and this time Sam refills them.

“So…” He utters. “That earthquake out there…”

“Yeah.” You say, before chuckling breathlessly.

He furrows his brows. “What?”

“It’s just… Fucked up childhood. Hundreds of years in Hell. All that torture. And the thing that finally broke me… was losing him. Dean Winchester… my greatest weakness.” You say quietly, with a small smile.

“Well,” Sam answers, “Cass did say whatever broke you would be a weakness God didn’t anticipate. I guess God didn’t anticipate you falling in love with Dean.”

“Gee, I wonder why.” You state, eliciting another pained laugh from Sam.

“I guess I let him out, then. Lucifer.” You say.

“We might have some time before he shows himself.” Sam states. “Last time… it, uh… it took awhile before he did.”

“I don’t give a shit what he does.” You say, and Sam looks at you in surprise.

You look at Sam, your gaze confident and angry. “Fuck the Devil. Let him hide out for months. Let him come right now. I don’t care. Nothing matters without him.” You nod in the direction of Dean’s room. “Nothing matters until we get him back.”

Sam clenches his jaw and returns your strong gaze. He just nods as he takes another sip, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. You know you’re both on the same page when it comes to getting Dean back.

You each finish your glasses once more, but this time you don’t refill them. This time, you both know what you have to do.

“Crowley got him into this mess… He will get him out.” Sam says as he stands. You stand, too, and follow him into the dungeon.

The two of you get together all the ingredients you need to summon Crowley. You work quickly, and when the spell is finished you both look around, waiting for him to show.

But he doesn’t.

“What the Hell?” Sam asks. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know.” You utter. “We didn’t miss anything.”

You do the spell a second time, just to be sure.

And after a few more moments of waiting, Crowley still doesn’t show.

“This doesn’t make any sense…” Sam shakes his head. “He should be here.”

Suddenly, it hits you.

“Unless he’s been here the whole god damn time.” You breathe, looking at Sam.

He looks back at you, wide-eyed, and the two of you rush to Dean’s room. Your heart is pounding as you run down the hall, and it seizes in your chest as you round the corner into Dean’s room and find it… completely empty.

You’re struck by complete disbelief as you try to process what’s going on. You and Sam exchange panicked looks as you look around the room frantically before your eyes once again land on the bed, and you notice two small sheets of paper.

You both take a few steps forward, and Sam picks the sheets up off of the bed.

He exhales sharply as he reads one of them out loud. “Sammy, let me go.”

You furrow your brows in confusion.

“And this one’s for you.” Sam mutters as he hands you the other sheet.

You swallow hard as you take it from him, and hold your breath as you look down at it.

‘Sorry, Sweetheart’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH!
> 
> What could be coming next, I wonder?
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me thus far. I hope you enjoyed... and I hope you're as excited as I am.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader and Sam are left clueless when Dean disappears from the bunker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Guess who's had the flu for a week!
> 
> But no worries, back at it now. The feedback I got on the last chapter was AMAZING, I can't tell you all how much I appreciate it and you.
> 
> This chapter (it should come as no surprise) will follow along loosely with the beginning of Season 10.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Sorry, Sweetheart?

SORRY, Sweetheart?!

That’s it?

That’s all he has for you?

Your mind is reeling as you stare down at the piece of paper in your hand.

You look up at Sam to find him staring at you, just as confused.

This doesn’t make sense. He wouldn’t leave you. He wouldn’t leave Sam.

But he’s gone.

You and Sam immediately rush around the rest of the bunker, desperately searching for some sign of him.

But there isn’t one.

He’s just gone.

And so is his god damn car.

Your head is spinning as the two of you walk back to Dean’s room to check once more for any sign of where he might have gone. The events of the past few hours have completely overwhelmed you and you don’t even know which way to turn. Sam can see this on your face and he puts his hands on your shoulders to steady you before looking deep into your eyes.

“Hey, we’re gonna find him.” He states.

You look into his eyes and you can see the uncertainty behind them. He’s just as confused as you are, and just as concerned.  
But he isn’t wrong.

You will find Dean. No matter what it takes. You’ll go well past the ends of the Earth for him. And you know Sam will too.

“Yeah.” You breathe, nodding subtly. “Yeah, I know we will, Sammy.”

He smiles slightly. “Good. How about we get some sleep. I think we both need at least a couple hours before we can even begin to try to figure this out. Okay?” He asks, studying your face.

In that second, your heart suddenly aches with how much you miss Dean.

“Okay.” You whisper.

With that, Sam nods at you and heads out of Dean’s room.

You stare down at the bed. The bed that you’ve spent so many nights in, wrapped in Dean’s arms. The bed that not even an hour ago, held Dean’s dead body.

The bed that is now empty.

Slowly, you strip off your boots and jeans and dig through Dean’s drawers for a t-shirt. You stare down at in in your hands and swallow hard as a lump begins to form in your throat. You take a deep breath before changing into the shirt and crawling into Dean’s bed. You crawl under the covers and squeeze your eyes closed, realizing how cold it feels without his body beside you. You roll onto your side and bury your face in his pillow and slowly begin to inhale.

The whiskey and gunpowder and leather and lead fill your nostrils all at once and your throat burns as tears once again begin to prick the corners of your eyes. You grasp at the sheets and squeeze your eyes closed even tighter as you desperately fight the sob you know wants to escape your lips.

You stay this way for a few moments, inhaling Dean’s scent as tears begin to wet his pillow, until you finally pull away and take a gasping breath.

You lie on your back and slowly steady your breathing as the last of the tears roll down the sides of your face.

You’re thinking so many things, it’s hard to focus on any one of them.

You know the thing you should be focusing on is the fact that the Devil is out there somewhere in the world - because of you - undoubtedly plotting the complete and utter destruction of the planet.

But, you aren’t focused on that. Not right now. Not at all.

All you can think about is Dean.

Part of you is still heartbroken. Still reeling from the knowledge that the man you love was killed, and there was nothing you could do about it.

Part of you is happy. I mean, just a little while ago Dean was dead and now there’s a chance he’s alive. Living, breathing, walking Dean. Your Dean.

But, on the other hand, you know there’s a very slim chance he actually is your Dean. Your Dean wouldn’t leave. Especially not like that.

That leaves you with the question now at the root of it all: What form of Dean Winchester came to life, walked out of here, hopped in the Impala, and drove away from you?

And where the Hell did he go?

As you begin to flesh out possibilities in your mind, you feel sleep creeping up on you. After the trauma of the past few hours, it’s no surprise.

As badly as you want to fight it, to remain conscious and continue thinking of where Dean might be, you know it’s no use.

Eventually, your exhaustion takes over and for the first time ever, you fall asleep in Dean Winchester’s bed without him lying next to you.

You and Sam spend the next few days brainstorming where to even begin to look for Dean. You call both him and Crowley constantly, but it always goes straight to voicemail.

That is, until they both change their numbers.

More days go by without so much as a lead.

Then, weeks go by. Every summoning spell or tracking spell or call to a fellow hunter leads to nothing.

This whole time, your gut tells you he’s with Crowley, and that enrages you even more than the thought of him running off on his own.

That they’re both lying to you. Hiding from you. That Crowley, who you thought you could trust, is somewhere out there with Dean, encouraging him to… well, who knows what he may be encouraging him to do.

And it pisses Sam off, too.

And when you look into his eyes, just like that first night after Dean died, you know that the two of you are in agreement – there is no such thing as going too far when it comes to looking for Dean.

And now that the phone calls and spells have led you nowhere, it’s time to get your hands dirty.

You and Sam head to the nearest crossroads, where he summons a demon, and the two of you force her into the trunk and bring her back to the bunker.

Once she’s secured in the dungeon, chained down to the chair in the middle, you waste no time asking her what you need to know.

“Where’s Crowley?” You demand, a fire in your eyes.

She just grins up at you. “You’re her.”

You furrow your brows slightly and she goes on.

“You’re the one who let him out. Lucifer.”

Your stomach drops but you try not to let it show, just narrowing your eyes at her further.

“We all felt it, you know.” She croons. “When he was released.”

“Shut up.” You spit.

“I don’t know what he’s planning yet, but whatever it is, I bet it’s BIG.”

“She said shut up.” Sam growls as he steps forward, clearly seeing the way her words are affecting you. “Now, where is Crowley?”

She laughs. “I don’t know. And even if I did, you know I wouldn’t tell you.”

“We’ll see.” Sam says as he steps forward, dragging his knife across her chest slowly.

She screams and thrashes, and Sam just asks even louder, “WHERE is Crowley?!”

Her screaming dissolves into laughing as she looks up at him. “I don’t know.”

As you watch, you feel the anger bubbling in your chest.

He drags his knife across her chest once more, in the opposite direction, and she cries out again.

“Where is he?!” Sam repeats.

She laughs again, but this time she’s clearly in a lot more pain. “You can keep asking the same thing, I’ll keep giving you the same answer, handsome.”

Suddenly, you grab a bottle of holy water, shove past Sam, grab her chin harshly, and pour the water down her throat.

She screams in shock and pain and tries desperately to pull away from you as her insides sizzle, but you don’t let up.

Not until Sam literally pulls you away from her.

She chokes and sobs, gasping for air and crying out in pain.

You pull your knife out of your back pocket and slash her across the chest, right over the wounds Sam has already inflicted. She screams out again and you press the blade to her throat, your face inches from hers as you glare into her eyes.

“Listen, you pathetic black-eyed bitch, it’s been a rough few weeks.” You grit. “And as much as I would absolutely love to take every last ounce of anger out on you, I quite frankly don’t have the god damn patience. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ll do it if I have to. I’ll carve into you until there’s nothing left to carve. That’s a promise. But, I’m gonna be incredibly gracious and give you the option of skipping that step.” You continue glaring at her, and she swallows hard and you see her jaw tremble slightly in fear.

“So, where’s Crowley?” You demand.

She doesn’t answer, she just continues staring at you.

“I’m sorry, did I fucking mumble?” You stand and look at Sam. “Did I mumble, Sam?” You ask sarcastically.

“No, you didn’t.” He responds, glaring down darkly at the demon, his arms crossed.

“Didn’t think so.” You respond.

Without a thought, you pick the bottle of holy water back up, splash it in her face, then lean back over and press the tip of your blade into her shoulder, twisting and burying the tip in her flesh agonizingly slowly.

She screams out in pain.

“Okay!” She gasps out desperately. “Okay, please!”

You pull the blade away from her shoulder and wait for her to catch her breath.

“I’ve heard of a general area where Crowley has been, but he’s been pretty under the radar lately! Moving around a lot! It’s- it’s just a WHISPER, a-a RUMOR, I mean, I have no idea if it’s even true!” She cries.

“Hey, hey.” You whisper, leaning inches from her face once more. “I didn’t ask for a god damn soliloquy. Give me a place.”

Her lips quiver as she looks into your eyes. “Wisconsin.”

You stand and turn to Sam. He nods at you, and you look back to the demon.

“You better hope that gives us a lead.” You say, slamming your blade down on the tray next to you.

“Let’s go Sam.” You state as you turn and stomp out of the dungeon.

Sam follows behind you quickly.

“Remind me never to get on your bad side.” He mutters as you exit the doorway together.

After only a few minutes of searching, Sam comes across an article about a man who was murdered in Wisconsin not long ago. It’s not much to go on, but signs point to possible demon possession. And at this point, ‘not much to go on’ is still the best lead you’ve got.

You and Sam decide that he’ll head out and follow this lead, and you’ll hang back and continue with the demon. You’re convinced she knows more, and you’re determined to get it out of her.

You make Sam promise to let you know as soon as he knows something, and if there’s any trace of Dean you’ll be right behind him.

You hug him and wish him luck, and as soon as he’s out the door you stroll back into the dungeon.

As soon as the demon sees you she laughs nervously.

“Ah, here we go again.” She says.

“Here we go again.” You state confidently. 

After countless hours more of torturing her, she’s still given up nothing. And you’re starting to think maybe she truly doesn’t know anything else.

“Why do you wanna know where Crowley is so bad, huh?” She asks through pained grunts. “Would this have anything to do with Dean Winchester?” She smirks at you slightly.

You freeze and look down at her, and she can clearly see the surprise on your face.

“I mean, I heard he was cute, but to do all this, just for him? Is he really THAT cute?” She asks with a taunting grin.

You walk toward her and lean down with your hands on your knees right in front of her face. 

“Yup.” You whisper, narrowing your eyes. “He is.”

She doesn’t say anything, just leans away from you slightly, clearly intimidated by your intensity.

“Now, how did you know that this was about Dean?” You ask.

She remains silent.

You stand up with a sigh, picking your blade up from the tray next to you.

“I mean, did you just forget everything that just went on here?” You question. “Do you think I’m not a woman of my word?” With that, you drag the blade down the side of her face, and she screams out in pain.

“Agh! Fine! FINE!” She cries. You pull the knife back and look down at her, waiting.

“There are rumors.” She mumbles, hunched over, trying to catch her breath.

“What rumors?” You demand.

“That Crowley… Crowley and… and YOUR boyfriend… are running around together having a grand old time.” She huffs.

You swallow hard as you look down at her. As much as you had suspected this, it still creates a pit in your stomach to hear it out loud. From a demon.

“And what else do these rumors say?” You croak.

“You’re not gonna like it.” She huffs, still hunched over and panting.

Your eyes darken as you take a step toward her.

“What. Is. It.” You growl.

Finally, she looks up at you with black eyes and grins slightly.

“They say that your man is a demon.”

All the air leaves your lungs at once as her words hit you. You try desperately not to react, but you know she can see on your face everything you’re feeling.

“You’re lying.” You mutter.

“Think about it.” She goes on, “Why else would Dean be out there, running around with Crowley?”

You swallow hard and clench your jaw, still trying to maintain your composure, but the way she smiles as she says these things is beginning to piss you off, and you feel your cheeks getting hot with rage.

She grins wider, clearly satisfied with how she’s getting to you. “I mean he just left his girlfriend and his little brother all alone. Would the Dean you know really do that?”

“Shut up.” You command.

“Maybe it’s just a rumor.” She hums, her eyes boring into you, “But I sure do hope it’s true.”

With that, you lunge forward and plunge your demon blade into her chest. Her eyes go wide in shock and she screams out as her entire body lights up and crackles, then she slumps forward, silent. Your chest is heaving as you rip the blade from her chest. You lean closer to her dead body and narrow your eyes.

“I said shut up.” You whisper.

You stand up slowly and look around the room, trying to process everything she said to you. Trying to convince yourself that she was lying.

She’s a demon.

Demons lie.

And yet, her words echo in your head and make you dizzy.

You rush out of the dungeon and into the hallway, trying to catch your breath and steady yourself. Suddenly, your phone rings and you pull it out of your pocket.

Sam.

You feel the slightest bit of relief, hopeful that maybe he found something. Something that will lead to Dean. Something that will quiet the voices in your head telling you that maybe the demon wasn’t lying at all.

You take a deep breath before answering.

“Sam.”

“Hey.” He answers quietly.

“Please tell me you found something.” You say hopefully.

“Yeah, I-I think I did. I saw something on the security footage. I mean, I saw HIM on the security footage.”

You hold your breath, waiting for him to go on.

“But… you’re not gonna believe it, Y/N. I mean… I can’t even believe it.” He mutters.

Your heart sinks and you squeeze your eyes closed, and Sam continues once more.

“Dean… he, uh… he’s a… he’s-"

“A demon.” You whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading!!!!


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and the reader continue their desperate search for Dean, but what will it take for them to finally find him?

A demon.

Dean is a demon.

The phrase echoes through your head and pounds against your skull as you sit in the library, waiting for Sam to get home.

Your first instinct is anger. You’re furious at the thought that Crowley has a demon riding around in Dean’s body.

But that thought fades very quickly.

Because for some reason, you just know that’s not the case. The connection you have with Dean, that inexplicable link that binds you two together, it tells you that he’s still alive.

You know what it felt like when he was dead. The emptiness that consumed your soul. That broke you completely.

And you don’t feel that now.

You haven’t since he disappeared. You don’t know where he is. You don’t know what he’s been doing. But you know that Dean is alive.

In one form or another.

And you need to bring him home.

Then, maybe you can bring him back.

You remember the boys telling you about a cure for demons. One that they were never sure could work. But now seems like a damn good time to find out.

Eventually, Sam returns home. He doesn’t say anything right away, just grabs a couple beers from the kitchen, walks into the library, and sits down across from you. He hands you a beer and you just look at each other.

“So.” He states.

“So.” You sigh.

“Got some more info from the dead guy’s phone. Figured out he’d been in contact with Crowley. And then… I got in contact with Crowley.” Sam says.

You look on in anticipation, gripping your beer tightly, and he continues.

“I thought… at first I thought he just had some demon riding around in Dean’s skin.” He states.

“So did I.” You utter. “But it’s not that, is it? It’s just Dean.”

He looks at you, slightly surprised. “How did you know?”

“I just…” You murmur. “I just did.”

“Well, you’re right.” He says. “Crowley told me. It’s just Dean. I mean… not JUST Dean. He’s a demon. But it’s him.”

“Sam, how is that possible?” You ask.

“I don’t know.” He answers. “Maybe Crowley did it. Or… maybe the Mark. Maybe when he died… it took over. And that guy in Wisconsin was possessed. An Abbadon loyalist going after Dean. And Crowley’s the one who sent the guy after him. Knowing Dean would use the Blade. Knowing Dean could kill him with ease.”

You just take a long swig of your beer, trying to let it all sink in. Trying to accept the fact that the man you’re in love with is now a demon.

It’s hard enough to accept that he’s any kind of monster. But after everything demons have done to you, it’s even harder to accept that he’s a demon. It makes your heart sink and your stomach churn to imagine he could be anything like the demons that did everything they did to you.

And you may love this man, but you’re far from naïve.

You know better than to let yourself think he isn’t just as dangerous as any other demon you’ve come across. In fact, you know him well enough to know he’s probably more dangerous than any other demon you’ve come across.

And yet, you don’t care.

You’re going to find him. And you’re going to go after him, no matter how dangerous.

You’re never giving up on him.

Besides, when have you ever been one to turn down an opportunity to be a little reckless?

“So, we’re on the same page, right?” You ask Sam.

He takes a sip of his beer, then stares down at the bottle in his hand.

“The cure.” He mutters, before looking up at you. “We need to find him. And we need to cure him.”

You look into his eyes confidently.

“Let’s find him then.” You state.

Knowing that Dean is a demon doesn’t give you and Sam much more to work with when it comes to looking for him. You call Cass to catch him up, but you can hear in his voice how weak he is. You know he can’t help right now. And you can’t ask him to.

The only new lead you have is the murder in Wisconsin. So, you start with that. You call around to every possible hunter you can think of to ask if they’ve had any murders similar to that one in their area. Sam goes online to search through databases and records in each state and to look for articles that may point to a murder similar to that one.

To a murder Dean may have committed.

But, you come up with nothing.

Which puts you back to square one.

You continue trying, but after another week of nothing but dead end research, you realize this just isn’t enough. You head into the map room, where Sam is still typing away on his laptop, and sit down next to him.

“Sam.” You state.

He pauses what he’s doing and looks up at you.

“This isn’t working.” You sigh.

He furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean he could be anywhere.” You say. “And this research, it’s giving us nothing.”

He just swallows hard and looks down, and it’s clear he’s been thinking the same thing and just didn’t want to accept it.

“Hey,” You reach out and place a hand on his arm, “you are doing everything you can. We both are. All I’m saying is… I think it’s time for a new approach.”

He just listens intently, waiting for you to go on.

“We need to get out there, Sammy.” You state. “A demon gave us a lead last time, maybe we can get one again. Y’know, literally go out there and look for him city to city. State to state. I know it sounds crazy but I can’t stay holed up in here anymore. This research,” You gesture to his computer, “It’s important. But we can do it on the road. We can look for him like this AND we can look for him out there, in real time.”

He pauses for a few seconds, taking in everything you’re saying.

“You’re right.” He breathes. “It might be a wild goose chase, but at least we’ll be out there, ready for if and when we do find something.”

You smile at him. “Damn right, Ivy league.”

You and Sam pack up and head out, not even entirely sure of where you’re going. You spend the next couple weeks working your way, town by town, away from the bunker. In each town you search for some sign of demon activity. And if you don’t find any, you try to find a crossroads to summon a demon and work them over for information as you had before.

And each time you do, they have nothing for you. No matter how hard you or Sam go at them, they have no answers.

After yet another frustrating dead end interrogation, you and Sam head back to your motel room, feeling exhausted and defeated.

“Well, maybe after a few more years of this, we’ll actually find him.” Sam grunts sarcastically as he flops down onto his back on his bed.

You sit on the end of your bed and close your eyes as you realize the truth of what Sam is saying.

“You’re right.” You state, opening your eyes and looking over at him.

He turns his head to look at you. “I am?”

“Yeah.” You say, standing up and facing him at the foot of his bed. “Right now, you and I, we’re covering the same ground when we could be covering double.”

He furrows his brows as he sits up. “Y/N…”

“Sammy, we gotta split up.” You state.

He sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t…”

“Look, I know it sucks.” You say. “But this is for him. If you start going one direction and I start going the other, eventually one of us is bound to run into SOMETHING.”

He sighs again. “But being alone and doing this, or even worse being alone and actually finding HIM… it could be dangerous.”

You take a step closer to him and look into his eyes. “I promise not to underestimate you if you promise not to underestimate me.”

He smiles slightly. “Underestimate you? Hah. I don’t think so.”

You smile at him. “Good.”

You begin to pack your stuff up and Sam just watches you with what looks like sadness. Once you’re all packed up, you turn to him once more.

“I’ll head West, you head East?” You ask.

“Sure.” He says as he stands.

He looks down at you and you look up at him.

“We are totally kicking his ass when this is all over.” You say.

He chuckles and wraps his big arms around you, pulling you into his chest and resting his chin on your head.

“Yeah,” He mutters, “Yeah, we are.”

You stay this way for a few seconds, holding each other tightly. Eventually, you pull away and look up at him.

“See you soon.” You utter.

He nods at you and you begin to walk toward the door.

“Hey.” He says. You stop and turn toward him.

“Do you wanna take the car?” He asks.

“Nah, that’s okay, Sammy.” You say with a smirk. “I’m sure I can find something.” With that, you wink at him and head out the door, and he chuckles as you close it behind you.

You walk for a few miles, until you stumble upon a truck in a mostly empty parking lot.

You quickly hotwire it and peel out of the parking lot. Then, you head West. Towards… well, hopefully towards your demon boyfriend.

Now there's something you never thought you'd say.

After driving for a few hours, you pick right back up with the routine you and Sam had. Check out local happenings in the area, see if anything rings any alarms. Head to the local police station and see if any recent cases seem like a lead. Check the recent weather patterns to see if there could be any demon-caused phenomena. And lastly, try and summon yourself a nearby demon to see if they have any information for you.

You continue this way for another week on your own, beginning to make your way painfully slowly all the way up and down the West Coast, determined to cover as much ground as possible, as quickly as possible, without missing anything. You get about two good hours of sleep every night, you’re hardly eating, and most of your clothes are stained with demon blood.

But you don’t care.

It’s worth it.

Or at least it will be, when you finally find him.

Tonight, you’re in a small town in Montana. And after a long day of more dead ends, you’ve got a crossroads demon chained tightly to a chair in the center of a Devil’s Trap in an empty and run-down factory. You’ve been going at him for a few hours now, and yet he swears up and down he doesn’t know where Crowley and Dean are.  
Same as all the others.

But you’re tired, and you’re pissed, and you’re desperately hoping that maybe you can get something out of him.

He laughs as he chokes around the most recent splash of holy water.

“Well, you sure are a determined one.” He coughs.

“You have no idea.” You reply as you drag your knife down the center of his chest. “Where are Crowley and Dean?”

He growls out in pain and then grunts loudly in frustration.

“I don’t know!” He snarls. And unfortunately, you’re starting to believe him. You huff out and turn around to your weapons bag, digging through it for something else that may force him to give you a better answer than ‘I don’t know’.

“I forgot to say thank you.” The demon croons from behind you.

You freeze, but you don’t turn around, waiting for him to continue.

“For letting him out. Lucifer. So many of us have been waiting for this for a long time.”

With that, you spin around, anger in your eyes.

“So, thank you.” He goes on, grinning as he looks you up and down. “I bet he’ll want to meet you.”

You don’t show it, but your stomach drops at that. You’d be lying if you said that thought hadn’t already crossed your mind.

“I bet he’ll want to know all about you. All about the girl who was chosen to be the lock on his cage. He must just be so curious. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s looking for you right now.” The demon taunts.

You swallow hard but narrow your eyes at him and stand up straight.

“Yeah, well, a little face to face with that douchebag is on my to-do list. But right now I’ve got other priorities.” You take a step toward him, knife in hand.

“I bet he’ll be grateful.” The demon goes on, ignoring you. “For finally setting him free.”

You don’t respond to him, you just glare daggers as you slam your blade down into his knee. He screams out in agony and you watch with satisfaction as he struggles to compose himself. After a few more seconds of him crying out in pain, he begins to catch his breath.

“On second thought,” He huffs, glaring up at you, “maybe he’ll be furious at you for being the one thing that kept him trapped down there for years.” He grins at you. “Maybe he’ll want to show you exactly what that was like. Maybe he’ll take all those pent up frustrations out on you.”

You know he’s probably right. And your stomach does churn slightly at the thought. But you’re not going to let him see that.

“You must be confused.” You say, leaning forward. “I didn’t ask you what Lucifer might want. Because, honestly, I don’t give a single fuck what he wants.”

Slowly, you wrap your fingers around the handle of the blade still in his knee, and he swallows hard and looks down at it nervously.

“What I do give a fuck about… is what I want.” You say, gripping the blade even tighter. His eyes flash between your eyes and your hand on the knife.

“And what I want,” You whisper before licking your lips and leaning even closer, “Is Dean Winchester.”

You look down at the blade and then bring your gaze back up to meet his.

“So,” You mutter. “Where are Crowley and Dean?”

His jaw quivers slightly and his eyes are wide. “I swear,” He whispers, “I don’t know.”

You study his face for a few more seconds before letting out a sigh.

“I believe you.” You state.

A brief look of relief flashes across his face before you suddenly yank the knife from his leg. Before he even has a chance to scream, you plunge the blade into his chest and twist. His body crackles brightly and his head slumps forward as you yank your knife back out of him.

You wipe it off on your jeans as you turn around and then you throw it into your bag in frustration. Yet another dead end. And more wasted time.

You clean up the mess in the factory and then head out to the truck. You hop in and toss your bag into the passenger seat. Just as you’re about to start it, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You and Sam have been checking in and updating each other regularly, and you’re not thrilled to have to tell him once again that you’ve still got nothing.

You pull your phone out and look down at it.

And it isn’t Sam.

Unknown Caller.

Your heart starts to beat a little faster as you answer the phone and bring it up to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello, love.”

Your heart jumps to your throat and your mouth goes dry.

“Crowley.” You utter.

“May I just start by apologizing, dear? I’m sure you’ve been having quite the rough time as of late. Can’t help but feel I may be partially responsible for that.”

“Where is he?” You demand.

“Ah, so I see we’ll be skipping the pleasantries, then.” He responds calmly.

“Crowley,” You growl, “Do not fucking play games with me. Where is he?”

“Play games with you, pet? I wouldn’t dream of it. In fact, I only called to give you precisely the information you’re asking for.”

“Did you?” You ask sarcastically. “Well that’s convenient. And why would you suddenly make it that easy for me?”

“Are you questioning my motives?” He asks, sounding offended. “Come now, Y/N, I thought we had some sort of relationship built up. Some sort of trust.”

“Yeah, well, so did I. And then you ran off with my boyfriend.” You snap.

He pauses briefly.

“Fair enough.” He answers. “But I’m sorry to say, my little affair with your boyfriend has run its course. I no longer wish to be the other woman.”

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” You scoff.

“Because he’s gone too far off the deep end for even my liking.” He answers, and you feel your chest tighten.

“What the Hell is that supposed to mean?” You ask, trying to mask the concern in your voice.

“It means he’s bad for business. Out of control. And I’ve had enough. I’m going to tell you where he is so you can get him out of my hair. And feel free to pass the information on to Samantha.”

“Crowley, I swear to God… if you’re lying to me…” You utter.

“I may have done a lot things, Y/N. But I’ve never lied to you. I wouldn’t dare start now.” He pauses briefly. “He’s at a motel. North Dakota. I’ll text you the details. Bye for now, love.”

With that, he hangs up the phone, and you realize how tightly you’re gripping yours.

You take a deep breath as you slowly bring the phone away from your ear.

North Dakota.

All this time, all this searching, and now you’ve got a place.

You immediately dial Sam’s number, just as you both promised you would if you found anything.

But it goes straight to voicemail.

You try again. And again. Straight to voicemail.

This isn’t the first time you’ve been unable to reach Sam right away. You can both get a little caught up and forget to check when you’re in the thick of looking for Dean. But this time you’ve got something, and you need him to know. You try him once more, but once more it goes straight to voicemail.

“Come on, Sam.” You mutter under your breath as you pull up the GPS on your phone and type in the address Crowley just sent you.

Only two hours.

You’re only two hours away from Dean.

You and Sam both promised you would go after him together if either of you figured out where he was. And you really want to keep that promise. And you’re really trying to. But Sam isn’t picking up his god damn phone.

And you can’t wait.

You start the truck and throw it into reverse, backing away from the factory and into the main road. And you peel away in Dean’s direction. You’ll keep trying Sam and hopefully he’ll answer soon and be right behind you. But you won’t wait any longer to go after Dean. You can’t risk losing him again. Not after all of this. Not after the weeks of searching and torturing and missing him more than anything. You know it’s a risk. You know it’s dangerous. And you know it’s reckless.

But it’s Dean.

So you’re going after him.

And even though he’d yell at you for doing it, you know Sam would do the same damn thing.

Two hours later, you’re pulling up outside the motel and realize it’s attached to a bar.

Well, he may be a demon, but he’s still predictable in some ways.

It’s crowded and you can hear loud music echoing from inside. It’s Saturday night, so you’re not surprised. You sit in the truck for a few minutes, trying to gather your composure before heading in there. You pull out your phone and try Sam again. For what feels like the hundredth time.

But he still doesn’t answer, and all you can do is leave him another voicemail.

“Sam, dammit, I’m busy going after one missing Winchester, I can’t handle the other one going missing too. Look, I know we promised we’d wait. But you’re not answering. And if the roles were reversed and I wasn’t answering, I’d want you to go after him. And you know you would. So… that’s what I’m doing. I’ll send you my location. Get here when you can.” You almost hang up, but you stop yourself.

“And Sam… I’ll be okay, alright? And so will he.” You pause briefly. “See you soon.”

You hang up the phone and take one last look at yourself in the rearview mirror before stepping out of the truck. You begin to head towards the door, but you freeze in your tracks and your heart pounds when you spot a black 1967 Chevy Impala parked right out front.

You walk up to the car and lightly trace your fingers along the hood. As you look inside, you flash back through the memories you have in the car. Laughing as the boys argue over music, watching the stars and drinking wine with Dean on the hood, making love to Dean in the front seat, and even nearly dying in Dean’s lap in the back.

The memories flood your senses all at once and you feel, even more than you have this whole time, just how much you miss him.

And just how determined you are to get him back.

With that, you take a deep breath and head into the bar. It’s crowded and loud and there are a couple of drunk older women on stage singing bad karaoke. Your eyes are instantly scanning the room, but you don’t see Dean anywhere. You decide to head over to the bar and get yourself a drink. Because with the way your heart is pounding, you need one. And with how hard you’ve been working to find Dean, you deserve one.

The bartender heads over to you and you order a Captain and Coke – heavy on the Captain. You look around the large space once more, your eyes desperately searching each face, hoping they’ll eventually land on Dean’s. The bartender hands you your drink and you take a long sip just as the drunk women finish their karaoke song. You hand the bartender your cash and just as you’re pulling your phone out to show him Dean’s picture and ask if he’s seen him around, you hear the next song starting.

Night Moves.

Your heart begins to pound even harder and your eyes snap to the stage.

And there he is.

And you feel as if your heart has stopped altogether.

You’re overwhelmed with feeling as you watch him bring the microphone up to his lips and start singing. Singing your favorite song. He’s not looking at you. In fact, you’re pretty sure he doesn’t even know you’re here. He’s swaggering across the stage, beer in hand, singing each line loudly and just slightly off-key. And every feeling you’ve ever had for him washes over you all at once as you watch him. 

The bartender notices you watching him and breaks you out of your trance.

“He’s a real piece of work, huh?” He asks, sounding almost annoyed.

You look at him, and he goes on.

“The guy’s been staying here for a couple weeks, and he does that same damn song every single night.”

Your breath hitches in your throat and you turn back to look at Dean. You watch in awe as he continues singing the song confidently, sipping his beer and closing his eyes as he passionately belts out every word.

And as the song builds, he opens his eyes and begins to look around the room. He scans back and forth, singing even louder than before, and the music seems to be growing louder too, pounding against the walls of the room and keeping pace with the pounding of your heart.

And then his eyes connect with yours.

And that bright green gaze rips through you to your core, making your knees weak and your stomach flip.

He doesn’t look surprised. He doesn’t look upset. He just smirks slightly as he sings the last few lines of the song directly to you, his gaze never once breaking from yours.  
And as the music ends, he walks off the stage, his eyes still fixed on yours, and swaggers toward you.

The butterflies feel as if they’re about to burst out of your stomach as he gets closer, his eyes crinkling in the corners and his teeth sparkling as he smiles.

You’re amazed by the way his presence makes you feel such a strange balance of danger and comfort at the same time, his stare somehow equal parts menace and solace.

He stops less than a foot in front of you, and it takes everything you have not to melt into him right there. His glittering eyes scan you up and down as he uses his tongue to pull his bottom lip up in between his teeth.

You watch his thick eyelashes flutter as he continues to look you up and down, before his eyes finally land back on yours.

“Well, well. What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ in a place like this?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!!!


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What will happen between the reader and Demon Dean now that she's finally found him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys...
> 
> I really hope you like this chapter, because I've been writing it pretty much all day (even when I wasn't supposed to at work, because I just couldn't help myself).
> 
> Side note, thank you so much for staying with me for what has now become a 35 chapter story and counting. You're amazing.
> 
> Please, please enjoy!

“Well, well. What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ in a place like this?”

His voice is just slightly deeper than usual. There’s just a little more gravel in his tone. His hair is longer than the last time you saw him, his smile is just a bit more sinister, and there’s something behind his stare that you’ve never seen before. Not in HIS eyes, at least.

But, all of his freckles are still there. His eyes still crinkle in the corners when he smiles. His legs are just as bowed when he walks. His shoulders and arms perfectly fill out his red button up and as you stare at his chest, it still looks like home.

You’re so distracted by looking at him, so in awe of the fact that he’s really here in front of you, that you don’t answer him.

He nods toward you slightly, his eyes still brimming with mischief.

“You okay there, Sweetheart?” He asks.

You’re trying to compose yourself, to steady your pounding heart. You bring your drink up to your lips, take a long sip, and then look into his eyes.

“Just peachy.” You state, as calmly as you possibly can.

He chuckles slightly and his eyes light up.

“Peachy, huh?” He rasps, stepping just a little bit closer to you. “Then… what are you doin’,” He licks his lips, “…hangin’ at this bar… and drinkin’ hard liquor all alone?” He rakes his eyes up and down your body slowly and lowers his voice to a whisper, “You are… far too gorgeous for that.”

You have to fight the chill that wants so badly to run up your spine as he speaks to you. You know what he’s doing. Replaying your first conversation. As if to tell you he remembers everything about your relationship. As if it still matters to him, as if he still cares about you, and he wants you to know that.

But you know better.

It doesn’t matter to him. And he doesn’t care.

He can’t. Not the way he used to.

But every step he takes closer to you, it becomes harder and harder for you to remember that.

You’re once again so caught up in watching him, you can’t even bring yourself to respond to him. But he isn’t fazed by that. In fact, it looks as if he’s enjoying it. As if he likes seeing you rattled by his presence.

“Don’t worry, this isn’t like that first time we met.” He says. “I remember you this time.”

His grin widens as he looks you up and down once more.

“I mean…” He drawls, “How could I forget?”

You take a shaky breath and study his face intently, trying to find your confidence.

“Hey barkeep,” He calls, never once breaking eye contact from you. “How about another round for me and the lady?”

The bartender looks between the two of you, clearly trying to understand the tension hanging in the air, but just nods his head and works on two more drinks.

“So, what brings you all the way here, darlin’?” Dean asks.

As if he doesn’t know. As if he isn’t completely aware of the fact that you’ve done nothing but look for him since the second he left. He really is toying with you. And somehow, that frustrates you just enough for you to find your voice.

“A guy.” You croon. He raises his eyebrows in delight, and you go on. “About 6’1”, green eyes, loves the classics. He’s probably cleaned this place out of whiskey and bacon cheeseburgers.”

He laughs, and for a second, as his teeth sparkle and his eyes light up, he looks just like the Dean you’ve always known. But only for a second.

“Have you seen him?” You ask, looking in his eyes. “I’m looking for him.”

He studies your face intently, his cocky smirk never once fading.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” He bites his bottom lip and takes another small step closer to you. “I got what you’re lookin’ for.”

You swallow hard as the butterflies flip in your stomach. It takes everything you have to remain in control of yourself, and you force yourself to take a small step back and study his face.

“I know you do, tough guy. Because you are what I’m looking for. Who I’m looking for. And I have been looking for a long time. But you already know that, don’t you?” You ask, your voice strong. As hard as it is, and as much as he is affecting you, you’re fighting to hold on to that tenacity that’s so ingrained in you. And you can tell he sees that. And you can tell he likes that even more than seeing you flustered by him.

He grins as he looks you up and down once more, completely ignoring what you asked him.

“You look good.” He declares, still studying your features. “That hair, those eyes, those… lips.” He says as he licks his own.

You can feel your cheeks flushing slightly as he continues, but you stand up straight and try to keep yourself composed.

“And those jeans…” His eyes scan back down your body. “They have always been my favorite. And they’re stained with… what’s that, blood?” He smiles devilishly. “Kickin’ ass. Just like I remember. Exactly how I’ve been picturin’ you, all this time.”

“Oh, you mean all this time that you’ve been running around with Crowley?” You snap, surprising both him and yourself. “After you up and left without even saying goodbye?”

For the first time, his smile fades. “I left you and Sam notes. I told you both to let me go.”

“No.” You state. “Your note to Sam said to let you go. But not to me.”

His grin returns as he chuckles slightly, looking impressed by you.

“Look at you, with the details. Always outsmarting me. But you know that what I meant was for both of you to let me go.” He says.

“Well, I guess you should’ve been more specific, then.” You reply, this time slightly cocky yourself.

His grin grows even wider as he leans toward you. “Would you have listened even if I was?”

You look into his eyes. “Nope.”

“That’s my girl.” He rasps.

You swallow hard and you’re relieved when the bartender walks over to hand you both your drinks. You take yours with a smile and take a long sip, trying to get your thoughts in order with Dean’s eyes still trained on you. There’s so much you aren’t talking about. He hasn’t asked you how you found him, or where Sam is. He hasn’t mentioned the fact that his death led to you accidentally springing Lucifer from the cage, which you’re sure he must know about.

And most importantly, he hasn’t asked you what you want from him. He hasn’t mentioned the fact that you must be here to bring him home. And you haven’t either. At this point, you have no idea what might set him off. And you know it’s probably not a good idea to find out.

He continues to look at you, almost longingly, as you work out your next move in your head.

“I have missed you so much, Y/N.” He rasps. And it almost sounds genuine.

This catches you by surprise and you feel your heart start to pound even harder when you hear him say your name. You’re still looking in his eyes and although you can see the danger behind them, you don’t care. It’s almost too easy to fall back into the playful banter you have always had with him. The way he makes you feel is impossible to ignore and although you know you shouldn’t feed into his game, you can’t help yourself. This time, you lean toward him slightly, lick your own lips, and whisper,

“I could say the same to you, Winchester.”

You see the satisfaction in his eyes as he feels you start to play along with him. Just then, the bartender heads back over to the two of you.

“We’re gonna be closing up soon.” He says, turning to you. “Did you want to book a room for the night?”

You open your mouth to speak, but Dean answers for you before you even have a chance.

“Oh, no, that’s alright. She doesn’t need one. She already knows where she’s sleepin’ tonight.” He says, still staring intently at you.

You swallow hard once more as his words hit you. You’re not sure if they’re an invitation or a threat. And even worse, you’re not even sure that you care.

The bartender continues looking at you, waiting for you to give him an answer of your own and to make sure that you’re okay. And you know what you should tell him. You know you should say that you do want a room of your own. That he shouldn’t let you leave his sight with Dean. That you probably aren’t safe.

But you don’t.

As wrong as it is, when you stare back at Dean, you don’t care about the risk. All you care about is the undeniable connection the two of you still have, risky or not.

You look at the bartender and smile and nod at him. “I’m fine, thanks.”

He hesitates slightly, but eventually just nods back and walks away.

You look back at Dean, and find him smirking in satisfaction.

The two of you continue to look at each other as you each slam back the rest of your drinks. You notice your hand shaking as you place your empty glass back down on the counter.

He steps even closer to you, leans down, and whispers, “Let’s go, Sweetheart.”

You feel a lump form in your throat as he starts to walk away, and even though every fiber of your being is telling you not to, you feel yourself start to follow him. And he doesn’t even bother to turn around and check, because somehow he just knows you are.

You follow him up the stairs and down the hall to his room, your mind screaming at you to turn around with each step you take. But before you know it, you’re at his door. He opens the door and looks at you, gesturing for you to walk in first.

So you do.

You enter the room and turn around in time to see him close the door behind him, his eyes boring into yours. His body is tense, his jaw is clenched, and his face is serious. And you have absolutely no idea what he’s thinking. As vastly different as it is, this feels so much like the first night you slept with Dean. The intensity in the air, the uncertainty of what will happen next, of who will make the first move.

Just like that first time, you can’t read him and you have no idea what he’s about to do. Unlike that first time, you’re concerned one of his options may be killing you.

“Where’s Sam?” He asks suddenly.

You feel that lump in your throat again.

“I don’t know.” You utter.

He grins. “Oh, come on, darlin’. I’m smarter than that. You, showin’ up here, lookin’ the way you look, knowin’ I just wouldn’t be able to resist you… that’s not some kinda trap the two of you cooked up?” He takes a step toward you, his face once again serious. “Where is he?”

He looks deep into your eyes, his threatening green irises reading your face and searching for an answer. Thankfully, the truth works in your favor in this situation.

“I don’t know.” You repeat.

He studies you for a few more seconds before you see surprise wash over his face as he realizes you’re telling him the truth.

“So, then how did you find me, Y/N?” He asks, taking another step toward you.

You feel your heart seize up slightly.

“Crowley.” You state. “Guess you two broke up, huh? Sad. I was really rooting for you two.”

He smirks. “Yeah, well, we had… differences of opinion.”

You should know better than to think he’d give you any more than that.

He takes another step toward you, now just a little more than a foot away from you. “So, Crowley called you and not Sam? Why am I not surprised by that?”

“Don’t know.” You answer. “He has always had a thing for me.”

“Mm, yes he has.” Dean responds with a smile as he steps toward you once more. “I mean, who could blame him?”

You don’t answer, and he just looks you up and down once more.

“So,” He goes on, “You’re tellin’ me Sam isn’t here? He isn’t comin’? You didn’t tell him right away once you found out where I was?”

“I’m telling you I don’t know where he is. And I haven’t talked to him in a week. We split up a few weeks back.” You say confidently. Because, technically, it is true.

A grin spreads across his face and he begins to circle you slowly.

“So, you came all the way here, knowin’ what I am, all alone? Without Sammy?” He asks from the left of you, as he continues to slowly walk around you. “That’s reckless, even for you, Sweetheart.”

“Well, you know me, handsome,” You state, trying to keep up with him, to maintain some control of the situation as you feel him making his way behind you, “When it comes to being reckless, I just can’t help myself.”

He chuckles breathlessly, and you feel him now standing directly behind you.

“Is that it?” He asks, his voice husky and low. “Is that the real reason you’re here right now?”

You feel him leaning close to you, feel his breath on the back of your neck, and this time you can’t fight the chill that the gravel of his voice sends up your spine. You swallow hard, feeling yourself begin to unravel and trying desperately to keep it together.

“See, because I think…” He continues, “I think maybe there’s another reason.” He continues walking, now slowly coming around your right side.

“Oh yeah?” You ask, breathing deeply, trying to mask the concern in your voice. “And what’s that?”

He makes his way back in front of you, his face now only inches from yours as he looks down at you and his green eyes bore into yours.

“I think,” He whispers, licking his lips, “that deep, deep down… you just wanted some time alone with me.”

He’s close enough to you now that you can smell the heart-achingly familiar scent of leather and whiskey coming off of him. You can see every little detail of his face, and his menacing beauty takes your breath away. His breath heats your lips as he whispers to you, and the adrenaline sends goosebumps all over your body and ignites a throbbing in your core.

You let out a shaky breath as you return the intensity of his gaze. The same silent uncertainty falls over the room once more as you continue to stare at each other, both of you breathing heavily, neither one of you certain of what each other’s next move will be. 

As you stare into his eyes, the tension in the room somehow grows and the electricity between the two of you begins to surge through every inch of your body. The connection you have always shared is consuming you now, and as hard as you’ve been trying to fight it, you know you can’t.

And right now, you realize you don’t want to.

It’s wrong and it’s scary and it’s stupid of you, but you want him so badly. Every muscle in your body is aching for him, every molecule of your being has missed him so much. And despite what he is, those lips are his lips. Those arms are his arms. Those hands are his hands.

And God, do you miss the way they make you feel.

As if he heard your thoughts, he brings one hand up and firmly grips the side of your face and tangles his fingers in your hair, the first time his calloused palms have touched you since you got here, and it makes your body quake with need.

“I want you.” He whispers, his lips now brushing yours. “I want you so god damn bad, Y/N.”

The way he says it is genuine, but isn’t desperate. It’s calm and deliberate. He knows he’s in complete control of the situation. Of you.

“And you can fight it all you want.” He whispers into your mouth as his lips continue to brush against yours. Slowly, he brings his other hand up to grip your waist and he tightens his grip on your hair, gently pulling your head to the side.

He brings his mouth painfully slowly up to your ear, his hot breath making the hairs on your neck stand up.

“But Sweetheart,” He huffs, his voice a breathless growl, “We both know you want me, too.”

As his soft lips graze your ear and his rough hands grip you tightly, all the desire you’ve been so desperately trying to fight completely overwhelms you at once. You moan, and it comes out as both a desperate whine and a frustrated growl.

“Oh, fuck it.” You grit as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and press your mouth urgently against his.

He exhales sharply and groans in lust as he instantly picks you up and slams you against the wall. His fingers dig harshly into the undersides of your thighs and he presses his body firmly against you, his hips instantly grinding into you.

You moan at the feeling of his hardness against you and you grind right back into him as your hands grip him around the back of his neck.

He continues to kiss you fervently, his tongue fighting yours for dominance and his lips pressing and pulling aggressively with yours. You’re pressing your lips back against his, your mouths moving together in rough synchronicity as you both gasp for air in between kisses.

Suddenly, he lets go of your legs and you drop to your feet. Just as your feet hit the ground, he spins you around and pins you against the wall from behind. He presses into you once more, his hard dick rubbing against your ass through your jeans.

He grunts out in desire and grabs a handful of your hair, pulling your head back and exposing your neck to him. His lips latch onto your neck, sucking and biting with the perfect amount of pressure to elicit another moan from your lips.

His other hand is gripping your hip, his fingers rubbing and squeezing you and sending sparks straight to your core. You press yourself even harder into him, continuing to grind yourself against him as he presses into you from behind.

He pulls his lips away from your neck and groans out at the feeling of you rubbing against him. He pulls away from you, spinning you around once more. He looks down at you as he grabs your shirt, pausing to smirk briefly before ripping the shirt in two and tearing it off of your body.

You gasp slightly in surprise, which you can tell he likes, and he reaches behind you to unclasp your bra and throw it across the room.

He pauses, just like he always used to, to take in your bare form in front of him. You watch his green eyes study your figure, and you see the wonderment in them as he looks at you. However, it’s quickly overtaken by pure lust as he lunges forward and takes your breast in his mouth, slamming you back against the wall once more as he does. He sucks and licks at your nipple, and you whine out and grab the back of his head, digging your nails into the back of his neck and pressing yourself into his mouth.

Somewhere, through the haze of desire and ecstasy, you know how wrong this is. You know you should stop. But right now, with the familiar feeling of his hands on you and the pleasure that only he can give you, you don’t want to. You want him. All of him.

Fuck the consequences.

Suddenly, he drops to his knees in front of you and quickly unbuttons your jeans, yanking them down and completely off of you, along with your panties. He’s panting heavily as he looks up at you briefly, his eyes focused and full of desire. You feel his hot breath on your bare center and you feel yourself shaking with need. You can tell he notices that too and he smiles cockily, his mouth merely an inch from your throbbing core.

“Tell me how bad you want it.” He rasps.

You look down at him, panting and shaking, yet trying to hold out from giving in to him, still desperate to prove to yourself and to him that you have some sort of control.

He grins, and you can tell he sees you falling apart in front of him, your desire for him overtaking you completely.

“Go on, Sweetheart.” He drawls breathlessly.

“Fuck, Dean!” You whine, feeling the control slip through your fingers as your desire for him drowns every other feeling out.

“Say it.” He commands, his mouth so close to your needy clit, teasing you with each breath and each word.

“I want it.” You finally cry. “Dean, I want it so bad. Please.”

“Good girl.” He grins mischievously before grabbing one of your legs, throwing it over his shoulder, and bringing his mouth down onto your clit.

You cry out instantly at the pleasure, as he wraps his lips around you and begins to suck with just the right amount of pressure. You throw your head back and reach down and grab a handful of his hair, moaning out as he continues to lick and suck in a way that has you writhing against the wall. His one hand continues gripping the leg that’s draped over his shoulder to keep you in place, but he brings his other hand up and slowly presses his index finger inside you, eliciting another moan from your lips.

He presses his middle finger in as well, and begins curling them and pumping in and out of you at the same time. The pleasure rocks you, and you once again writhe in his grip as you feel your orgasm building. His lips remain wrapped around your clit, his arm tightly gripping your leg, and his fingers hitting your sweet spot over and over at the perfect pace.

Before you can even prepare yourself, your orgasm hits you full force and you continue to cry out breathlessly as your legs quiver around his head with each wave of pleasure. He allows you to ride out those waves before pulling his mouth off of you and letting your leg drop from his shoulder to the floor.

You look down at him, panting hard, and before you even have a chance to recover, he lifts you and carries you over to the bed, throwing you down before tearing off his own flannel and t-shirt. You can’t help but rake your eyes over his bare chest and arms, unconsciously biting your lip as you take in the form you’ve missed so much.

He grins cockily as he watches the way you look at him, and then begins to unbutton his belt and his jeans as he continues to step closer to the bed. He pulls of his jeans and boxers and you feel the breath once again leave your lungs as you see him, completely bare in front of you, for the first time in so long.

He crawls on top of you and studies your face intently, his bright green eyes flooded with lust and need. Slowly, he presses himself inside of you and briefly, for the first time all night, you see vulnerability flash across his eyes as the feeling of being inside you overwhelms him with pleasure.

You gasp as he fills you up, and instinctively throw your arms around him and dig your nails into his back. He growls out at the feeling of your nails in his skin, and this causes him to pull himself out of you and snap his hips, immediately filling you up once again.

“Fuck, Y/N,” He grunts, pulling out of you and slamming back in once more.

You continue to moan as he thrusts in and out of you, gradually picking up his pace with each stroke. You look into his eyes and you can see the pure hunger overwhelming them. He growls out as he picks up his pace once more, and you whine out in breathless bliss as you feel him pushing you toward your peak once more.

Suddenly, he pulls out of you, grabs you tightly by the waist, and flips you over before pressing himself right back inside of you from behind. You gasp and cry out in surprise and pleasure as he’s suddenly hitting a whole new angle inside of you. He pulls back, slowly at first, then presses himself back in once more. You grip the sheets beneath you, moaning out his name as he once again begins to pick up his pace, this time more quickly than before.

Just as he does this, he reaches down and grabs your chin from behind, pulling you backwards until your back is flat against his chest.

“Let me show you just how much I missed you, Sweetheart.” He pants, his mouth grazing the outside of your ear. One hand continues gripping your chin, partially covering your mouth, and the other slowly runs down your chest, over your breast, and down to your clit.

As soon as his fingers press against your clit, you whine out into his fingers and he growls in arousal at the feeling. He begins to rub your clit at the same pace with which he thrusts into you, and you start to see spots from the pure pleasure coursing through you. He doesn’t let up, still holding you firmly against him, still rubbing your clit, still pulling his hips back and snapping them forward over and over again, hitting you at the perfect depth each and every time.

He once more speeds up, now pounding into you at a relentless pace, and you scream out his name into his hand as your hands fly up and grab his wrist as he holds your face, just needing to grip onto him in some way to steady yourself as the pure ecstasy courses through each nerve in your body.

You can’t move, your body still pressed hard against him, your senses entirely overwhelmed by how unbelievably amazing each and every stroke feels inside of you.

All at once, your orgasm explodes, and you whine into his fingers as the mind blowing pleasure consumes you completely. You can tell by the way he moans into your ear and the way his strokes stutter that he’s reached his breaking point as well, and he thrusts into you a few more times, slowing his pace each time, until you’ve both completely ridden it out.

He slowly releases his grip on you, allowing you to drop forward onto the bed, and he drops down next to you. You’re both panting hard and covered in sweat. You’re speechless, completely dumbfounded by how incredible it all felt, and you feel your entire body still trembling from the intensity of it all.

Suddenly, to your surprise, you feel him roll over and wrap an arm around your waist from behind, pulling you against him once more. You feel yourself stiffen up briefly, but that instantly fades as you relax into him, your heart fluttering at the familiar feeling of his warm body holding you.

You know this can’t last. You know you’re still in danger. But you’re so comfortable in his arms, and you’re so exhausted as you come down from the high that your body just experienced.

You try to fight it, but you just can’t, and you drift off to sleep in Dean’s arms.

You’re woken up by the sound of your phone ringing in your jean’s pocket. Your heart pounds as you slowly pull yourself from Dean’s arms, terrified that he’ll hear it and wake up. You quickly rush over to your jeans, pull your phone from the pocket, and run into the bathroom, closing the door and turning the sink on before answering the phone.

“Hello? Sam?” You whisper.

“Y/N!” Sam exclaims. “Oh, God, you’re okay.”

“Me?!” You ask. “What about you? Where the Hell have you been?”

“I, uh… got caught up with looking for Dean. Went after a particularly tough demon and my phone broke in the scuffle while I was capturing him. I was so deep into interrogating him I didn’t have a chance to get a new phone until I was done.”

“Jesus, Sam!” You shout in a whisper. “I was worried about you.”

“I know, I know, and I am so sorry. And then I saw your messages and I freaked out because I thought you might really go after Dean alone. So it is so good to hear your voi… wait a second, Y/N, why are you whispering?”

He takes your silence as an answer.

“Oh, no. Are you with him right now?”

“Sam, I’m sorry.” You say.

“Did he hurt you? Are you okay?” He asks urgently.

“I’m okay. I swear.” You assure him. “He hasn’t hurt me. I can handle it.” Sam doesn't need to know just how you've been handling it so far. You're pretty sure he wouldn't approve of that. All that matters is that he knows you're okay.

“This is all my fault.” He says. “You shouldn’t be there alone. It’s not safe, he could turn on you at any minute. I saw the address you sent, I’m a solid days drive from you. You need to get out of there, Y/N.”

“You know I can’t do that, Sammy. I… I can’t lose him again. We can’t risk him disappearing on us again.”

Sam sighs. You know he hates to risk your safety. But you also know he knows you’re right.

“Fine.” He states. “Can… can you keep him busy, keep him distracted while I get there?”

“I’m sure I can think of something.” You respond.

“Okay.” He mutters. “I can’t believe this is happening this way, but okay. I promised I wouldn’t underestimate you. But, Y/N, please…” You hear the fear in his voice, “Please, be careful.”

“I will.” You breathe. “See you soon, Sam.”

With that, you hang up the phone, turn off the sink, and open the bathroom door.

To your relief, Dean is still sound asleep in bed. You put your phone back in your jean’s pocket and crawl back into bed next to Dean. You lay there next to him, watching him sleep, and your heart aches as you see the man you love looking innocent for the first time since you’ve gotten here.

But, you know he’s far from innocent. And you know Sam’s right, he could turn on you at any minute. And you now need to figure out how to prevent that for another full day on your own.

But you’ll do it. Whatever it takes, to get him back.

Because you will always be the one to bring him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH for reading!!!!


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is the reader in over her head with Demon Dean?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> Sorry this chapter has taken a little longer to write, but it's quite a long one so I'm thinking that will make up for it. Hope you're all ready for some more Demon Dean.
> 
> I mean, come on, who isn't ready for more Demon Dean?

You don’t know exactly how it happened, but somehow with the exhaustion from the night before and the comfort of being next to a sleeping Dean, you fell back asleep.

And now, the smell of coffee begins to fill your nostrils and pull you back to consciousness. You slowly blink your eyes open and when you do, you see a to-go cup of coffee sitting next to you on the nightstand. You glance from the nightstand to the end of the bed, and see Dean standing at the end of the bed, a paper bag in his hand.

“Mornin’, gorgeous.” He drawls with a grin. You sit up in bed and he tosses you the bag in his hand.

“What’s this?” You ask.

“Breakfast burritos.” He says as he sits down next to you. “Like the ones we never got to eat that mornin’ I went off and got myself killed.”

Your stomach drops slightly at how casually he talks about that day, but the feeling is quickly replaced by butterflies at the fact that he even remembered what you talked about that morning. And what you were going to do that day.

As you look at him and see the anticipation on his face waiting to see whether or not you like what he got you, you feel so conflicted. He keeps doing things that the old Dean would do. That your Dean would do. Yet no matter what he does or what he says, you still see the threat behind those eyes. You still feel the danger behind that smile.

Still, you can’t help but smile back as you pull your breakfasts out of the bag. He continues sitting there, across from you, grinning at you as you share your food and you laugh and joke just like the old times. It somehow makes you feel whole and rips you to pieces all at the same time. You know it isn’t really him, but the crinkle of those eyes and the sound of his laugh drown out all the doubts that you know you should be paying attention to.

You’re almost completely under his spell.

Soon, you realize you’ve been sitting here, doing this, for almost an hour. Desperate to do anything you can to break yourself away from how mesmerized you continue to be by him, you realize you haven’t showered in what feels like forever and some time under the hot water might be just what you need to get your thoughts in order and pull yourself together.

“I should shower.” You say, looking down at yourself, still only covered by a sheet.

His eyes flick up and down your body quickly before landing back on yours.

“Yeah, you should.” He responds, licking his lips and smirking, “I got you good and dirty last night.”

“Yeah, you did. Thanks for that.” You respond sarcastically.

“Thanks for what?” He asks cockily. “For getting you dirty or for the way I made those pretty eyes roll back into your head?”

You instantly feel the arousal once again spreading through you, but you force it down and just grin back at him.

“Both, I guess.” You murmur.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He rasps as he leans forward and kisses you, which catches you off guard. Despite the fact that the two of you had sex and cuddled all night long, you’re still surprised when he kisses you. Especially when he kisses you as gently as this. It doesn’t feel threatening at all.

He pulls back and grins at you.

“I’m gonna head downstairs to the bar.” He says. “You shower, get dressed, and meet me down there. And uh… the only way out of here is through the front door and the back door downstairs. And you can’t get to either of ‘em without heading right past the pool table, which is where I’ll be. So… don’t even think about tryin’ to sneak outta here.”

Ah, there’s the threat.

Are you suddenly being held prisoner here? You guess that would only be the case if you wanted to leave. Which for about a million reasons, you don’t.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You say, confidently. “I’m not leaving you, Dean. The whole leaving thing is your gig, remember?”

He grabs his chest and closes his eyes. “Oof, Sweetheart, now that hurt.”

“Only because it’s true.” You respond with a smirk.

“Well, you got me there.” He says. “But I’m not goin’ anywhere this time. You and me against the world, darlin’.”

Before you have a chance to answer, he leans forward and kisses you once more, even more passionately than before, and you feel your heart beginning to pound. The kiss sends sparks from your lips through your whole body. And like a drug coursing through your veins, you are intoxicated by him.

Scratch what you said before.

There’s no almost about it.

You ARE completely under his spell.

He pulls back from the kiss, grins at you once more, and stands, heading toward the door.

“Uh, Dean?” You call.

He stops and looks at you.

“I don’t have any other clothes.” You say.

“Yeah, you do. “ He says, nodding to the other end of the room. “Grabbed your bag from your car while I was out this mornin’.”

You furrow your brows as you look at your bag, then back to him.

“But I stole that car to get here. How did you know it was mine?” You ask.

He chuckles. “C’mon, Sweetheart. You think I don’t know my girl well enough to know exactly what kinda crappy old truck she would jack?”

You can’t help but smile at that, and he smiles back as he heads out of the room, closing the door behind him.

After about a half an hour, you’re showered, changed, and even throw on some makeup before heading downstairs to meet up with Dean. You’re genuinely surprised that he’s spent the last couple weeks holed up here, getting drunk and singing karaoke instead of running around killing everything in sight.

But you also know better than to think he hasn’t been doing any running around and killing, especially when he was with Crowley. But you can’t ask him about that. You can’t do anything that might set him off. The only thing you can do is play along with him as if everything is fine.

And honestly, that’s the only thing you want to do anyway.

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, you see that the place is pretty much completely dead, except for Dean and a couple other guys playing pool. At first, you’re nervous they may be demons, but that thought fades pretty quickly as you get closer and realize they’re nothing more than just a couple of drunken regulars. One is tall and thin, the other is short and muscular.

“Ah, there she is!” Dean says, flashing his grin. “The one I was tellin’ you about, fellas. The one who got away.”

Ha. Yeah. The one who got away. Except you’re not the one who went anywhere.

You don’t say anything about that though, you just smile slightly as you reach the pool table. Once again, you look around and realize how completely and utterly dead the place is. You guess you shouldn’t be surprised, it seems like the kind of place that is only ever busy at night.

“You want a drink, Sweetheart?” Dean asks, already heading over to the bar and reaching behind to pull out a bottle of whiskey and a glass. He pours you one, and one for himself, and heads back over to hand you yours. You look around as you take the glass, waiting for a bartender to show up and yell at him, but no one does.

He grins. “The daytime bartender and I have a bit of an agreement.” He says. “He stays out of my way, I do my thing, and we don’t have any trouble.”

You just look at him for a few seconds, but his damn cocky smile is enough to make you accept what he’s telling you and take a sip of your drink. It’s then that you notice the two other men at the pool table staring at you.

“So, this is the little lady?” The tall one asks, condescendingly. “Well, she’s even prettier than you said.”

You can tell Dean already notices your annoyance with them and he laughs slightly, knowing how bad you already want to kick their ass for talking to you and looking at you the way that they are. He just takes a step closer to you and wraps an arm around your waist.

“Yeah, she’s a real dime.” He croons, looking at you.

You raise your eyebrows at him and he laughs again before winking at you and saying, “Too bad she sucks at pool, though. I’ve tried about a million times to teach her. She just can’t pick it up.”

He gives you the look he has countless times before when you’ve hustled pool together, and you can’t help but feel your stomach flip with the way this scene feels so much like old times.

As always, the two guys immediately offer to play for a little bet. And as always, you and Dean lose a couple of times to really make it convincing. You stomp your feet and whine every time you miss a shot, truly playing up the “poor pathetic girl who can’t play pool” role.

However, during the third game, triple or nothing, you show those men exactly how pool is supposed to be played. You sink shot after shot, just as Dean does, and you sweep them under the rug in a matter of minutes.

You sink your last shot and grab the wad of cash resting on the edge of the table, waving it in the air before shoving it in your pocket, grinning at Dean the whole time as he watches you, smiling back.

Suddenly, Dean rushes you, picking you up and spinning you around with a proud laugh. You laugh as well, staring into his smiling bright green eyes, and for one brief, foolish moment, you think maybe you and him could stay here, just like this, forever.

But just for one moment.

As soon as he puts you down, you realize how pissed of the two guys are. The both curse as they slam their pool sticks down and glare at you.

Dean finally tears his eyes away from you to look at them, but doesn’t lose his smug grin.

“Problem, fellas?” He asks.

“Yeah,” The short one says angrily. “The two of you just played us.”

You scoff. “Well, it’s not my fault you two jackasses thought the ‘pretty little lady’ couldn’t beat you in pool.”

Dean smiles and chuckles, beaming with pride.

“Your girl has a mouth on her.” The tall one growls, looking at Dean.

Dean just continues smiling, eyeing you up and down. “Oh buddy, you have no idea.”

Suddenly, the tall one takes a deliberate step toward you and looks you up and down.

“Maybe she needs to be taught a lesson.” He spits at you, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Dean warns.

“Why not?” The guy asks with a taunting smile, looking at Dean. “You gonna kick my ass?”

“Sure,” Dean responds confidently, “But I wasn’t warnin’ you about me.” He looks at you. “I was warnin’ you about her.”

With that, the guy swings at you and you easily deflect the hit. You counter by instantly hitting him in the face and then the stomach, knocking all the air from him as he falls to his knees.

You turn to see Dean smiling from ear to ear in satisfaction as he watches you.

Then suddenly, the short one runs at you, clearly trying to defend his friend, and just as he swings at you, you see Dean’s large arm appear almost out of nowhere and grab the guy’s fist, instantly bending it backward as the guy cries out.

With the grip on his fist as leverage, Dean easily punches the guy in the face, sending him flying back onto the ground.

As soon as he does that, the tall one is back on his feet and running at you once more.

“Fucking bitch!” He shouts as he swings at you once more. Once more, you duck his blow and counter with another punch to the nose. You look at Dean and realize how angry his eyes have become just as he grabs the tall one and slams his head on the pool table.

You’re amazed by how agile he is, how casually he hits these guys, counters their blows, and throws them around like it’s nothing. The Dean you knew was an incredible fighter and now with that demon blood in his veins… he’s unstoppable. It’s both terrifying and exciting all at once.

“What the fuck did you just call her? Huh?” Dean demands as he grabs the guy by the back of the collar and looks into his eyes.

The guy stutters slightly, clearly disoriented, and Dean reels back and punches him again.

“See, nobody’s gonna disrespect my girl, you hear me?” Dean asks condescendingly as he hits the guy again. The guy’s head is bobbing, clearly on the edge of unconsciousness, and Dean turns him toward you.

“Tell her you’re sorry.” Dean growls.

The guy is bleeding, and clearly panicked, and you can see the fear in his eyes as he realizes just how strong Dean is. He doesn’t apologize to you, though, so Dean just shouts it even louder.

“I said tell her you’re sorry!” He bellows.

Just then, the other guy gets up and runs at Dean from behind, lifting a pool stick as if he plans to break it over Dean’s head. Before he has a chance, though, you run at him and hit him quickly in the stomach and then the face. With that distraction, you grab the pool stick from his hands and swing it over his head, cracking it in two and sending him once again crumpling to the ground.

When you turn around, you see Dean still gripping the guy, but now smirking at you fondly.

“Well, thanks, Sweetheart.” He drawls.

You smile at him and he looks back at the man still tightly in his grip.

“Do not make me tell you again.” He growls.

With that, the guy looks at you, wide-eyed.

“I’m… I’m sorry!” He exclaims desperately. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re damn right you are.” Dean whispers before finally releasing him.

He instantly stumbles over to his friend, dragging him to his feet as they both rush out of the bar and into their car, urgently driving away. As you watch them drive away, you realize it probably wasn’t good to encourage the violent side of Dean in that way. And you saw the fear he induced with ease, and the complete lack of remorse he had.

But on the other hand, those two had it coming. And you’re pretty sure you and Dean would have done that whether he was a demon or not. Plus, you’d be lying if you said watching him swiftly move and take them down with ease wasn’t incredibly sexy.

And damn, did it feel good to kick ass with your man again.

You turn to look at Dean, both of your chests heaving, your adrenaline pumping, and as your eyes connect, the energy in the room instantly shifts. The heat between you fills the air and he takes a step toward you.

“You are…” He uses his tongue to pull his bottom lip up in between his teeth, “Very impressive.”

You take a step toward him and look him up and down as well, sending the same energy back to him.

“I could say the same to you, Winchester.” You whisper with a smirk.

Once again, the room is buzzing with the energy bouncing between the two of you as you stare at each other, and the only sound you hear is the pounding of your own heart in your ears.

Suddenly, he lunges at you, picking you up roughly and spinning you around, slamming you down to sit on the pool table behind you. You hear the balls clattering and clacking against each other as they fly across the table from the force of your body.

Your lips have already collided, kissing roughly and passionately as you breathe sharply through your noses. Your hands are all over each other, tugging and grabbing as if you can’t possibly feel enough of each other. Your trail your hands up his arms and squeeze his biceps, feeling the strength of his muscles as he uses them to push your legs even further apart and squeeze your thighs as he grinds his hips into your center.

You moan out through your kisses when you feel his hardness against you, and you wrap your legs around him to pull him even closer. He reaches up and grabs a tight handful of your hair, pulling your head back so that he can move his lips down the side of your face and to your neck, sucking and biting the entire way. You reach up and grab a handful of his hair as well, returning every bit of passion and fire that he’s giving to you.

He lets out a deep growl when you pull his hair as his other hand continues to squeeze at your thigh and butt and run up and down your back. You continue kissing, your tongues dancing and dipping in and out as you continue to grab at each other. 

Every time he squeezes you and runs his rough fingers up and down your body you feel sparks shooting straight to your already throbbing center and you feel the heat already pooling deep in your stomach. You taste the whiskey on his tongue and you smell the familiar musk of his skin and you can’t get enough of his lips on yours.

You both suddenly pull back, staring at each other as your chests heave and the arousal exudes from your eyes. You both quickly glance around the room, silently acknowledging that the bartender or a customer or literally anyone could show up at any moment and catch the two of you. But then both of your eyes connect once more and you see the lust in each other’s gazes and now you’re silently acknowledging that neither of you care. You want each other so badly right now in this moment that you’re blinded to the risk.

His lips collide with yours once more, his hips rolling into you, and you grind back against him and hear a low growl sound from deep within him at the feeling. Your hands are still all over each other and he breaks away from the kiss to bring his lips up to your ear.

“You want me to take you right here, on this pool table? Huh?” He huffs into your ear. “Right here where anyone could walk right in and see us?”

You moan quietly in response, your whole body aching to have him inside you.

“Come on, Sweetheart.” He coaxes in a raspy pant, his lips still brushing your ear, “Tell me.”

You grab a handful of hair at the nape of his neck and pull his head back so that you’re looking into his lust-blown green eyes.

“Yes, I do.” You whisper, staring at him intensely. “I want you. I want you inside me, Dean.”

You watch as your words arouse him even further. He rolls his eyes back in his head and closes them slowly.

“Say it again.” He commands, his voice strong.

“I NEED you inside me, Dean.” You breathe in a desperate moan. “Right now.”

And that’s enough to make him snap.

He opens his eyes, and the hunger in them would probably be scary if it wasn’t so sexy. In an instant, he uses both hands to grip your t-shirt and pull, ripping it in two and off of you completely. Before you can react, he pushes your bra up to expose your breasts and brings his mouth down on your nipple, sucking hard and flicking his tongue against it.

You moan at the feeling and shove his flannel off of his shoulders, throwing it on the ground next to him. As badly as you want to rip his shirt off as well, you know you should leave some clothing on in case someone does come in, and you know that’s why he left your bra on as well. So, instead you grab handfuls of his sleeves in each hand and pull him even further against your body and grind into him even harder as he continues to suck on your breast.

He groans as you grind against him and the sound vibrates through his lips on your nipple, and then straight down to your throbbing clit. When that feeling hits you, you can’t help but reach down and unbutton his jeans, pushing them down only a little bit to allow yourself access to him. You reach your hand into his boxers and grip him, feeling how hard he is.

He growls out loudly in arousal, pulling his mouth from your breast suddenly so that he can unbutton your pants as well. As soon as they’re unbuttoned, he yanks them all the way off along with your panties, clearly no longer concerned with the need to keep your clothing on.

You push his boxers down a little further to pull out his hard cock and he grips handfuls of the meat of your thigh on each side as he begins to bring himself closer to line himself up with you. For a brief second he pauses, and you look at each other, allowing the intense energy to fall over both of you. Then, he presses himself forward, filling you up and bottoming out inside of you in one swift motion.

You both gasp, and those gasps resolve into moans as he begins to move inside you. He pulls back slowly, furrowing his brows in pleasure and looking down to watch himself fill you up once more. He continues this way, with slow, long, deliberate thrusts, over and over again.

He feels so amazing and yet you want so much more and you whine out in a combination of pleasure and want. He picks up on your desperation and reaches up to grab a handful of your hair and pull your head back once more. He once again brings his soft lips to the outside of your ear.

“You got yourself into some real trouble this time, didn’t you pretty girl?” He rasps, still maintaining the same long, steady, and deep pace.

That’s for god damn sure.

You let out a broken moan as you reach your hands up under his t-shirt and dig your nails into his back, using that grip to begin to move your hips with his, matching his pace and allowing him to somehow hit you even deeper each time he thrusts.

You see a look of almost surprise flash across his face, as if he’s taken off guard by being so deep inside you. He once again furrows his brows at the sensation and you see his breathing become even heavier.

“God, you feel so fucking good.” He grits as he begins to pick up his pace.

You moan out again as he speeds up, the feeling of him quickly filling you up over and over sending pleasure coursing through you. With his fingers still firmly tangled in your hair, he pulls your face forward to kiss you deeply, breathing heavily through his nose in between each thrust.

You kiss him back, your hips still moving towards his each time he pumps into you. He wraps his left arm all the way around your waist to grab your left butt cheek, squeezing tightly and using that leverage to nearly lift you off the table, thrusting himself up into you even harder. He picks up his pace once more as he does this, now pounding into you relentlessly, the entire table shaking and the balls rolling and clacking against each other behind you.

You whine into his mouth and he returns that with a growl. As he hits your sweet spot over and over, his lips on yours, his calloused hands all over you, your nails still digging into his back, you feel yourself suddenly nearing your peak as the pleasure pooling in your center begins to grow.

He suddenly pulls his mouth off of yours so that he can look into your eyes.

“Look at me.” He huffs. His green eyes are commanding and terrifyingly beautiful as you stare back into them.

“I didn’t get to see that gorgeous face last night when I made you cum all over my cock,” He growls, “And I wanna see it right now.”

His words push you even closer to the edge and you nearly lose your focus and start to close your eyes as the ecstasy overwhelms you. He grips you even tighter and repeats his command louder.

“Look at me, Sweetheart. Let me see it.”

You focus your gaze once more on his, and the beauty of his lust-filled features is all it takes to push you to your breaking point. Your orgasm snaps inside of you, flooding your senses and spreading through every last inch of you. The whole time, you keep your eyes trained on him, just as he asks, so that he can watch you as you cum.

“Fuck, there it is.” He groans as he watches the bliss wash over your features. Seeing that is all it takes for him to reach his own peak as well, and he grips you even tighter as he growls out in pure pleasure. His expression of ecstasy takes your breath away as you continue to ride out your own orgasm. His brows are furrowed, his lips slightly parted as he pants out his breaths, his cheeks flushed, and his bright green eyes boring into yours. You think you can feel the bruises forming on your ass as he grips you, pumping into you erratically a few more times as you both begin to come down. 

Eventually, he lets go of your ass, but not your hair, and he pulls you once more into a breathless kiss. He pulls away once more and that’s when you see him looking at you.  
And your heart sinks slightly.

He’s staring at you, looking you up and down just like he always used to after you two had sex. But something is different this time. This time, he’s not looking at you the way he used to. He isn’t looking at you in awe and wonder and reverence.

He isn’t looking at you with love.

He’s looking at you in pride and satisfaction and arrogance.

He’s looking at you like he owns you.

Not like he loves you.

Before you have a real chance to feel hurt by that, a car suddenly pulls up in front of the bar. You look at each other before he quickly helps you off the table and you yank your jeans back on. You grab the pieces of your ripped shirt and the two of you run up the stairs back to his room. You rush into his room, both of you laughing at how close of a call that was, and you dig in your bag for yet another shirt.

“Pick your nicest one.” He says.

You turn to look at him, eyebrows raised.

“I wanna take my girl on a date.” He croons.

Emphasis on the MY part.

He senses your hesitation, so he goes on.

“Come on, Sweetheart,” He persuades. “A fancy date, right here in this bar.”

“Well, isn’t that romantic.” You chuckle. “But there’s nothing fancy about this bar.”

He takes a step toward you. “And that’s exactly why it’s perfect for us. Ain’t nothin’ fancy about us either.” He says with a smirk.

You laugh again. “Fair point.”

“Good.” He states confidently. “Then I’ll go back down and get us a table. You go ahead and get changed and meet me down there whenever you’re ready, darlin’.”

He grins and winks at you and then heads out the door before you even give him an answer. You stare at the doorway for a few long seconds after he closes the door behind him. Your heart is still aching remembering the way he looked at you after you had sex.

The sex was absolutely incredible, you can’t deny that. But his eyes were so empty after. So devoid of the love he used to exude each time. You didn’t notice that last night, with him behind you. But you definitely noticed it today.

And yet, you still want so badly to go on this ridiculous date with him. To have just a few more hours to pretend. And with Sam not here yet, you don’t really have a choice.  
You change into a long-sleeve tight black v-neck, freshen yourself up, and head downstairs a few minutes after Dean.

As you head down the stairs, you’re surprised by how quickly the place has begun to fill up. You see Dean sitting at a table in the center of the room, so you head over to him and sit down. You see his eyes rake up and down your body as you sit, and he pulls his bottom lip up in between his teeth as he admires your choice of shirt.

“You can’t rip this one off of me. I’m running out of shirts.” You scold playfully.

“Now, Sweetheart, you know I can’t make that promise.” He drawls with a grin.

The waitress walks up to your table and begins to introduce herself and rattle off the specials, but freezes when she actually looks down at the two of you.

Her eyes flick from Dean, to you, then back to Dean, where they remain. She stares at him briefly, looking surprised and shaken before finally clearing her throat and bringing herself back to reality.

“Uh, what can I get you to drink?” She asks quietly.

“Double Captain and Coke for this one.” Dean says, pointing at you with a smile. “And a whiskey neat for me.”

“Okay.” She breathes. “Be right back with those.”

You watch her as she quickly walks away, but Dean quickly distracts you.

“You look gorgeous, Gorgeous. I sure have missed that face.”

As hard as you try, you can’t fight those butterflies.

“I’ve missed yours, too.” You answer.

The two of you continue to dance around the million unsaid things between you.

“Come to think of it…” He starts with a cocky grin. “There are a whole lot of things I sure have missed.” He licks his lips as his eyes scan you once more.

Just then, the waitress returns with your drinks and places them down on the table. You smile and thank her and you see her force herself to smile back at you.

“You two know what you’d like to eat?” She asks, looking at you as if she’s trying not to look at Dean.

“Two bacon cheeseburgers.” He says, grinning at you, not even looking at the waitress. “Trust me, darlin’, they got some of the best here.”

The waitress just stares at Dean for a few seconds before writing the order down and walking away without another word.

Dean lifts his glass and gazes at you.

“To us.” He rasps, his sage green eyes boring into your soul.

Your heart beats a little faster as you lift your glass as well and clink it against his. He winks at you and you both take a sip.

After a few more minutes, the waitress brings out your food and then quickly walks away. You’re still eyeing her curiously as you take a bite of your burger, but you’re quickly distracted by how good it is.

Dean sees this reaction on your face and smiles.

“Told ya.” He drawls.

The two of you continue this way, eating and talking like the old days. You’re flirting and laughing and although you know it can’t last, you’re letting yourself enjoy it right now.

When you’re finished the waitress comes over to take your plates away.

“Can I get you anything else?” She asks.

“Just the check.” Dean says, still looking at you and not her. She just stares at him, looking completely entranced by him and terribly sad at the same time. After a few seconds, she once again shakes it off and walks away, but realization has already hit you.

You know that look.

You’ve had that look.

You know what it feels like to be hurt by Dean Winchester when you have feelings for him.

And that girl has feelings for him.

Huh. Wonder how that could possibly be.

You shouldn’t be surprised. You should know better than to think that this version of Dean would be able to stop himself from sleeping with a pretty girl that’s right there in front of him.

Or that he would even want to stop himself.

And yet, your stomach still drops and your heart still aches at the revelation.

“That poor girl.” You mutter as you watch her walk away.

He furrows his brows at you, as if he’s confused by what you said.

“She’s got it bad for you, Dean.” You say, looking at him. “And you know it.”

He doesn’t look upset that you’ve figured it out, because of course he knew you would. He just sighs and looks at you as earnestly as he can manage.

“She means nothing.” He states.

You scoff.

“You once said that about me.” You return.

“That was different.” He explains. “I said that about you because I was already so in love with you I couldn’t handle it. Because the old Dean was such a pussy he didn’t know how to man up and face those feelings. She actually means nothing. No one does. Except you.” He finishes with a smile. And as the words roll off his lips, you don’t feel an ounce of sincerity behind them. You know he’s trying to sound sincere, but you know him too damn well for that to work on you.

He’s playing you.

And you know it.

And you hate yourself for letting it go on.

Before you can respond to him, the waitress returns once more with your check. She once again looks between the two of you, and as if it had been bubbling up in her this whole time, she looks down at you and blurts, “Careful, he’ll break your heart.”

Then she looks back to Dean with daggers in her eyes.

You scoff and mutter, “You have no idea.”

He looks between you and her.

“Hey,” He says, looking at her. “What’s goin’ on right here, what I have with her,” He waves his finger between you and him, “It’s beyond comprehension. Yours or anyone else’s.” He continues glaring at her as he speaks.

“You and I, we had a little fun. But this one here,” He points at you, “Me and her, we’re destiny. You got no idea the history we have. She’s the only one for me. Only one there ever has been and only one there ever will be.”

She just stares at him, eyes wide. It’s true, the connection between you and Dean is beyond the understanding of most. You know that what he’s saying, in some weird, convoluted way, is meant to be a compliment. But right now, as you see her cheeks grow red and the pain in her eyes, you know it isn’t one.

He hands her the cash and casually states, “Keep the change” as if he didn’t just completely break her heart. She looks between the two of you one more time, and you look back at her, apologetic but speechless.

As the tears begin to well in her eyes, she grabs the cash from his hand and storms away.

You just stare at him as he takes another sip of his drink, so clearly unfazed by the way he just hurt her. And hurt you. You want so badly to get up and walk away from him right now, but you know you can’t. You’ve still got a couple hours before Sam will get here and you need to keep your cool until then.

He can see you deep in thought, and clearly upset, so he speaks up.

“I’m sorry.” He says.

As hard as you try to fight it, you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Hey, Sweetheart, I’m sorry.” He says again.

You look into his eyes and you’re reminded just how dangerous this man is. How good he is at pretending to be genuine. It’s scary how manipulative he’s become.

“I believe you.” You murmur.

Even though you don’t.

The two of you head over to the bar, and at this point the place is even more crowded, as more people filed in while you were eating dinner. You try your best to relax, and it’s not too hard to do since flirting with Dean comes as naturally to you as breathing, whether he’s a demon or not.

You’re still upset, still on edge, but the drinks and the music and those god damn green eyes help you keep it hidden. You continue this way for a couple more hours, and even head back over to the now crowded pool table to play another game. You exchange knowing looks as you both glance at the spot on the table where only hours ago you were fucking each other’s brains out. It doesn’t take long for the two of you to be running the table just like you always used to. Dean grins and winks at you each and every time he sinks a shot, and the butterflies in your stomach refuse to quit no matter how much you tell them to.

While Dean begins his next turn, you head over to the bar to get you both another round. You order and as you’re waiting for the bartender to bring over the drinks, you feel a presence next to you. You turn to see a man in his late-thirties, average height and build, smiling at you.

“Hi there.” He says. “Can I uh, can I buy you a drink?”

“Thank you, but I don’t think so.” You answer. “I’m uh… here with someone.”

He glances over to Dean then back to you.

“Yeah, I saw you with him. I’ve seen him here before. That guy… no offense, but he’s kind of an asshole. Girl like you deserves better.” He smiles as he checks you out slightly. The guy’s annoying, but clearly harmless.

“Well, no offense to you, but you don’t know what kind of girl I am.” You say with a smile.

“I’d love to find out.” He replies, taking a small step closer to you.

Suddenly, as if out of thin air, Dean appears next to you and you can immediately feel the aggression radiating off of him as he stares this guy down.

“She’s way out of your league, buddy.” Dean says, his voice deep and gravelly.

The guy just scoffs slightly. “Yeah, well, she’s out of yours, too.”

Dean takes a step toward him. “She doesn’t wanna talk to you.”

“Yeah?” The guy asks. “Why don’t you let her tell me that, then?”

“Because I’m tellin’ you.” Dean snaps.

The guy just looks past Dean at you.

“Hey, Sweetheart, you sure I can’t buy you that drink-"

Before he even finishes, Dean swings his fist and punches the guy right in the mouth, sending him stumbling backward a few feet, and causing everyone in the immediate area to back up in surprise.

“The Hell did you just call her?” He growls, stepping toward him. “You don’t get to call her that.”

He grabs the guy by the shirt and reels back before punching him again. And then again.

“That is MY girl, you hear me you son of a bitch? She’s MINE.” He bellows before punching him again.

The guy is now bleeding, holding his hands up in surrender, and Dean just hits him again.

You lunge forward and grab Dean and he looks at you but he doesn’t let the guy go.

“Dean, enough.” You say, giving him the same stare you always have when you need him to really see you. Past his eyes and to his soul.

A soul that he doesn’t have right now.

He just looks away from you and punches the guy again, and again. As hard as you’re trying to pull him off, you’re just not strong enough. And it’s then that you look more closely at his face.

And you see the smirk on his lips each time he punches this guy.

Eventually, a few more guys rush over and pull Dean off of him and the guy just slumps to his knees. You drag Dean away and when you turn to face him, you see him smiling cockily.

“I was just defending my girl.” He says with a smile, his chest heaving, his knuckles coated in blood.

You look back over at the guy, now being helped to his feet, and you see that he clearly has a broken nose and his face is beaten to a pulp. He’s groaning and wincing, clearly in so much pain.

Pain that Dean caused. Just like he did with the guys at the pool table earlier. Just like he did with the poor waitress. Like you know he’s been doing since he left.

And not only is he causing pain, he’s enjoying it every time he does. And right now is the first time you’re realizing just how much.

You’re such an idiot.

You’ve been so swept up in this little world you’ve been in with him, you let yourself forget exactly who he is right now.

Exactly what he is.

You look at him, studying his smug expression, and you start to feel overwhelmed.

“I can’t do this.” You breathe, walking away from him and rushing up the stairs back to the room. As you head back toward the room, all of your thoughts swirl around at once.

You’ve been so foolish. 

You almost let your love for him blind you to what you need to do for him. But now you have to let your love for him remind you exactly why you’re here in the first place. And exactly what you need to do. You need to get him back. The real him.

But this goes further than just you and Sam needing Dean back for yourselves.

You need to get Dean back for Dean.

Because Dean is a hero, he’s a good man, and he saves people. He doesn’t hurt them. And the real Dean won’t be able to live with himself if he continues to hurt people this way.

As you barrel into the room, you take a few deep breaths, trying to compose yourself to keep yourself from blowing everything.

After a few seconds, Dean is right behind you in the room, closing the door behind him.

“What the hell was that, huh?” He asks. “I was just stickin’ up for you!”

You look at him, your frustration boiling inside you.

“It’s not just that, Dean. And you know it.” You state.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” He says, playing dumb.

As hard as you try, and as much as you know you should, you just can’t hold it in any longer.

“You’re hurting people, Dean!” You shout. “And it needs to stop!”

As soon as you yell at him, you wish you hadn’t. You see his eyes darken slightly and he takes a step toward you.

He grins. “You think THAT was me hurting people? Oh, Sweetheart,” He scoffs, “You got no idea the kind of hurt I’ve been dishin’ out.”

You take a deep breath as you feel the darkness radiating off of him, and you see the threat behind his eyes and his smile. You try to remain strong and keep your composure.  
And damn it, you’ve already opened your mouth at this point.

“Yeah? Well it’s gotta stop.” You say confidently. “You need to come with me, Dean. Come home. The cure can bring you back, make you human again.”

He closes his eyes.

“Ah, there it is.” He says quietly. “Been waitin’ for that.”

“Dean, please-"

“Don’t, Y/N. Don’t do this.” He mutters.

“Why not?!” You demand.

“Because that means all this fun between us has to end now.” He takes another step toward you and narrows his eyes. “See, I don’t wanna be cured. I like this version of me.”

“No, you don’t.” You say, standing tall. “You might think you do right now, but you don’t. This isn’t you. You might think it’s easier for you, simpler, but it’s not. It’s harder.”

He chuckles. “Oh, is it? You sure about that? You sure it’s not just harder for you?”

That stings, but you don’t let him see it. You just take a deep breath.

“Dean, you have to come with us-"

“Us?” He asks, raising his eyebrows.

Shit.

You swallow hard as he glares at you.

“I knew it.” He murmurs. “I knew you and Sammy had somethin’ cooked up, all this time.”

Your heart begins to pound as he takes another step toward you, now hardly a foot away.

“You really think I’m stupid, Y/N? Huh?” He sneers.

You just look at him, completely at a loss of words.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” He clicks. “You should know better. A hunter as good as you.”

You swallow again.

“You’re right.” You breathe. “I should’ve known better. But as soon as I saw you, I didn’t care about anything else.”

“Awww, is that right?” He mocks. “Because you missed me so much? Huh? Because you love me so much?”

The mocking tone of his voice cuts through you to your core, but you just clench your jaw and try not to show it.

“Well, I missed you too.” He hums. “That’s the truth. And I love you.”

“No.” You say. “You don’t. You can’t. Not like this.”

He cocks his head and thinks for a few seconds. “Yeah… maybe you’re right.”

Your heart drops to your stomach hearing that out loud.

“But I could’ve tried.” He continues. “I could’ve tried really, really hard. But you had to go and ruin it. You had to sneak around with my brother. I mean… ouch.” He clutches his chest.

He takes another menacing step toward you, now inches from you.

“Well,” He says as he looks around the room, “I don’t see Sammy here right now. Do you?”

“Dean, don’t.” You whisper.

“Don’t what? You scared, Y/N?” He rasps.

“No.” You breathe.

He smiles. “Oh, come on, yes you are. You can’t lie to me. You can lie to all those other monsters and say you aren’t scared of them, but you can’t lie to me.”

You clench your jaw but you don’t say anything.

He brings his face right next to yours, now whispering in your ear.

“You know… all those other monsters like… Alastair.”

A lump forms in your throat, and you feel your anger building in your chest.

“Or… monsters like all those other demons who spent all that time with you. Demons like me.”

Your rage continues to bubble and you’re just trying to keep your breathing under control.

He leans even closer, his lips brushing your ear.

“Or… monsters like… your stepfather.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, you shove him away from you and your fist flies up and connects with his jaw, sending him stumbling backward a few steps. He grabs his jaw as he steadies himself and looks at you, and you both stand there for a few seconds in surprised silence. Your chest is heaving and your eyes are wide, you’re still so furious at him but you also realize how much danger you could be in now that you hit him.

He continues to look at you, and you watch him smirk slightly, looking more evil in this moment than you ever thought he could. It sends a chill down your spine as he narrows his eyes at you and you can see the utter darkness behind them. Without a word, he lunges at you. You try to hit him again to defend yourself, but he grabs your wrist with ease to stop you, and reaches his other hand up to grab you firmly by the throat. Before you can react any further, he throws you backward onto the bed and climbs on top of you, never once releasing his hold on your throat.

You try to tug at his hold on your throat, but he just uses his other hand to pin both of your wrists above your head, all the while slowly tightening his grip on you. It isn’t until right this moment that you realize how incredibly strong he truly is. This goes far beyond demon strength. This is Dean Winchester, Mark of Cain, Demon Strength.

And you don’t stand a chance against it.

He grins once more as he looks down at you. You know he can see the panic on your face, and you’re now past the point of trying to hide it. The jig is up. The charade is over. And Sam’s not here.

“Now, you’re definitely scared.” He almost laughs as he says it, and at the same time he blinks once and opens his eyes. And that is the first time you see the endless black of his demon stare. Not only is he choking the life out of you, he won’t even allow you the comfort of looking into his bright green irises as he does.

With that, he lets go of your wrists and now has both of his big hands wrapped around your throat. Your own hands instantly fly to his, clawing and tugging at them, trying to pull them off of you or loosen their grip.

That only makes him tighten his grip further, and you feel your throat nearly closing completely. You thrash and choke, kicking your legs and writhing your body beneath him, but he doesn’t budge, and he doesn’t falter.

“Dean,” You gasp, “Stop.”

He doesn’t answer, he just stares back down at you, pure rage in his eyes.

“Don’t,” You cough, “Do this.”

“I didn’t do this, Y/N.” He states calmly. “You did this. We could have made this work. Just you and I. But you just had to go and betray me with Sammy.” He tightens his grip once more when he says Sam’s name, and you feel your throat close completely.

You can hear your heart pounding in your ears as your lungs begin to burn and your head begins to swim. You stare up at him, and you think you can feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

“Dean,” You let out once last desperate gasp, using the last of the air you have, “please.”

He’s killing you.

These hands that have made you feel so good so many times, are now squeezing the life out of you. This man who you love so much is about to end your life. The memories flashing before your eyes as you die are memories of the very person that’s causing your death.

Slowly, your kicking begins to stop. Your body stops squirming. Your hands stop clawing at his. White spots cloud your vision and the pain in your lungs stops. The pain everywhere stops. You look at his face one more time, and the last thing you feel is the aching in your heart as your teary eyes fall closed.

Just as they do, Sam Winchester bursts through the door of the hotel room. While Dean’s hands are still wrapped around your throat, that allows Sam enough time to catch Dean off guard and splash him with holy water. Dean screams out, and as he swings his arm around to defend himself from the water, Sam snaps demon cuffs on his wrists. Dean growls in frustration but Sam just forces him to his knees and splashes him once more.

“Enough, Dean!” Sam shouts, looking down at him. “It’s over.”

Dean just glares up at him, powerless to do anything more with the cuffs now on his wrists. It’s then that Sam looks over to you, and his eyes go wide with panic.

“No! Y/N!” He bellows as he rushes over to you on the bed. He takes your face in his hands and taps your cheek gently, desperately trying to wake you up and bring you back to consciousness.

“Come on, come on.” He mutters, continuing to tap your cheek. “Come back to me.”

When you don’t respond, his panic begins to rise. All the while Dean just watches, emotionless, still kneeling on the ground, his wrists cuffed behind him.

“Y/N, please!” Sam shouts as he begins to shake you more violently.

And that’s what wakes you up.

Your eyes snap open and your hands fly up to your throat as you gasp and choke and gag, desperately trying to force oxygen into your lungs that had been lacking for so long. Relief washes over Sam’s features as he holds you up, trying to help you catch your breath. He looks from you to Dean, wide-eyed.

“Dean…” He breathes, “Dean, please tell me you didn’t do this. Please tell me you couldn’t have done this.”

Dean just stares at Sam but doesn’t answer. As you finally catch your breath, you look at Dean as well. And he just looks back at you, stone-faced, jaw clenched.

Without an ounce of remorse.

You and Sam pack up the room, and then bring Dean down the stairs, still cuffed. It isn’t hard for anyone in the bar to believe that Sam’s a cop and that Dean’s being arrested, especially considering the brawl he had just been in. And truthfully, they’re all probably pretty happy to see him go.

You load up the Impala and Sam shoves Dean in the back seat. You climb in the passenger seat next to Sam, and he starts the long drive back to the bunker.

Sam continues to glance at Dean in the rearview mirror as he drives. After a long silence, he finally speaks up.

“We’re gonna bring you back, Dean. The real you.”

Dean chuckles from the backseat.

“No, you’re not.” He states. “Because I’m gonna stop you. Even if it means I have to kill you both.”

“You won’t do that.” Sam utters.

Dean laughs again.

“Yes, I will. You wanna tell yourself that somewhere, deep down, I’m still me, and that means that I won’t kill you? That’s fine, Sammy, you go ahead and tell yourself that. But you’re wrong. Because if I need to, I’ll kill you with my bare hands. And you know what else? I’ll do it with a smile.”

He licks his lips, grins, and turns his attention to you.

“Isn’t that right, Sweetheart?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed!


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and the Reader will do whatever it takes to bring Dean back to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!!!!
> 
> I have a lot to say to you about this chapter.
> 
> This has been the most nerve-wracking chapter for me to write thus far. And that's because this ENTIRE story started because of the idea I had for this chapter. Yup, this entire story was born from my idea for this specific chapter.
> 
> No pressure.
> 
> I have obsessed over this chapter for a while now, and I've decided it's just time to share it with you and hope that you appreciate it and enjoy it the way you all deserve.

The rest of the ride to the bunker is silent. You feel Dean’s eyes on you from the back seat, but you don’t look at him. You just stare out the window, feeling the ache of the bruises in the shape of his fingers that are beginning to form around your neck.

Once you get back, you and Sam instantly get to work. You get together the blood and the syringes, and Sam takes Dean into the dungeon to chain him down. You enter the dungeon, cooler of blood in your hand, and you see the smug grin already crossing Dean’s face. You hand Sam the cooler, then lean against the wall of the dungeon, arms crossed.

“You two… you just don’t get it, do you?” He chuckles. “I don’t want this. I don’t wanna be cured.”

“Oh, we get it.” Sam answers, turning around from the table where he’s now laying out the syringes. “We just don’t care what you want right now.”

“Is that so?” Dean asks condescendingly. “Well, if you really cared about me the way you say you do, Sammy, you would.”

Sam scoffs. “You really think that’s gonna work? We’re doing this because we care about you. The REAL you.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “The real me. This IS the real me now. New and improved.”

“Yeah, well,” Sam responds, “I like the old model better.”

“How do you know it’s even gonna work on me? Huh?” Dean asks.

“It has to.” Sam says as he picks up a syringe and walks toward his brother.

Dean’s eyes flick to the syringe before landing back on Sam’s face.

“Don’t do this, Sammy.”

Sam doesn’t answer, he just takes another step toward Dean. As Sam gets closer, Dean’s eyes flash black and he begins to growl and thrash at his brother. Sam clenches his jaw, splashes his brother with holy water, and quickly pushes the needle into Dean’s arm. He injects him with the blood and then takes a step back, placing the now-empty syringe back down on the table.

The two of you watch as Dean continues grunting in frustration. There are a few seconds of heavy silence as Dean stares Sam down, fury in his eyes, and you aren’t sure if the blood actually had any effect at all.

Then, you watch the pain flash across Dean’s face. He tenses up and struggles in his bonds, throwing his head back and groaning out in agony. You close your eyes and take a deep breath as it happens, not wanting to see him this way, but knowing you still have so far to go.

Sam injects him a few more times over the next hour, and he reacts the same each time. He writhes and growls in pain for a few moments each time, and each time he looks more and more pissed off when he’s done. His breathing is heavier and he’s starting to look weaker, but he definitely isn’t looking any less demonic.

Dean shakes his head and huffs out, “Come on, Sam! It ain’t workin’, alright? Give it up.”

“We’re just getting started.” Sam snaps back.

Dean growls in anger at Sam’s answer.

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” He spits. “I tried to get as FAR away from you as possible, and you still didn’t get the hint. I don’t want a damn thing to do with you, Sam. I never did. But before, you were my responsibility. My burden. I had no choice but to put up with you day in and day out.”

From your spot still leaning against the wall, you can see the way Dean’s words are starting to cut through Sam.

“’Watch out for Sammy!’” Dean says, as he mocks his father’s voice. “That was always my job, wasn’t it? Always cleaning up your messes, one right after another. Well, I’m done with that. You are not my problem anymore.”

You see how hurt Sam is, and you can’t take it any longer, so you push yourself off the wall and take a strong step toward Dean.

“Knock it off.” You utter.

Dean turns his head slowly toward you as he grins.

“Ah, she speaks.” He says. “For a minute there, Sweetheart, I thought you were hidin’ out over there because you were just too damn scared to get any closer.”

You scoff and take another purposeful step toward him.

“I expected insults, but, come on…. that one was just ridiculous.” You narrow your eyes and lean toward him slightly. “You know me better than that, Dean. I’m not scared of you.”

“Oh, no?” He asks, raising his eyebrows. His eyes dart to look at your neck, and you know he’s looking at the bruises that he created. He sees you stiffen up and he smirks slightly before looking back at your face. “Well, maybe you should be.”

Sam takes a defensive step closer to him as well, so that he’s now standing right next to you. Dean pretends he doesn’t even see him, his eyes still fixated on you.

“I mean, really, Y/N… you should be terrified of me.” He says cockily. “With all the things I’ve done to you. Just look at those bruises.” He licks his lips after he says it, and you swallow hard.

“And we all know I’ve done a lot more than just leavin’ those pretty little bruises on that neck, don’t we?”

Your mouth goes dry and you glance quickly at Sam. You see him stiffen up further as well, and Dean just goes on.

“Y’know maybe it’s because bein’ a demon has opened up this dark side of me… but I suddenly remember so much more about all the details of our time together down there.”

His eyes are sparkling as he talks, looking you up and down with pride.

He chuckles slightly, “Man, I really cut you up, didn’t I?”

“Wasn’t so bad.” You spit back, an eyebrow raised. “Wasn’t enough to break me.”

“Nah… I guess it wasn’t. But, you did break, didn’t you?” He grins even wider. “And it was still sorta thanks to me, wasn’t it?”

You feel yourself tense up again as you and Sam once again exchange knowing looks.

“Ah, we haven’t talked about that yet, have we?” Dean mocks. “You let the Devil out. Just like Sammy did all those years ago.” He looks from you to Sam almost as if he’s scolding the two of you.

“C’mon, tell me, what exactly broke you, Y/N?”

You just stare at him, because you know he already knows.

“Was it losing me? Huh?” His cold green eyes study you closely. “All the shit you’ve been through, and me dyin’ was the one thing that broke you completely?”

You swallow hard, and he just smiles.

“Well, ain’t that just the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He looks deep into your eyes as he says this, as if he knows that staring into his green irises while you hear it will make it hurt even more. You just stare back, maintaining as strong an expression as you possibly can.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Sam says as he takes a step closer to you, trying to somehow physically protect you from Dean’s words.

“Man, you two really are quite the pair.” Dean says, looking between the two of you. “Maybe he’s the brother you shoulda been bangin’ this whole time.”

You glare at him as his words punch you in the gut.

“I said enough.” Sam utters, which elicits another laugh from Dean.

“What?” He chuckles. “I’m just sayin’, you two are so damn similar. Got so much in common. Y’know… both so smart, both workin’ together to gang up on me, both popped the Devil out of the box and kick-started whatever apocalypse he’s got planned.”

With that, Sam grabs another syringe and strides up to Dean, shoving the needle in his forearm and injecting him once more. Dean furrows his brows and squeezes his eyes closed as he throws his head back with another pained grunt. He grunts a few more times, tensing his muscles, before his head drops forward and his chest heaves. He takes a few broken pants before looking up at Sam once more, rage in his eyes.

“You shoulda left me alone, Sammy.” He grunts. “Y/N and I were doin’ just fine before you showed up and ruined it.”

“Yeah?” Sam asks angrily. “Was that before or after you wrapped your hands around her throat?”

Dean scoffs. “Like you care? What are you, her hero?”

You can’t believe him. After everything he’s done, everything he’s said, he’s still jealous. Still possessive over you.

“You knew she was with me, didn’t you, Sam? I mean she had to be the one to tell you where we were. You knew she was with a demon. Risking her life. And you still let her do it. That’s how far you were willing to go to get me back. Once again, using Y/N as bait knowing damn well she was in danger the whole time.” He glares at Sam as he says this and you see Sam swallow hard.

“If I had killed her,” Dean murmurs, “It would’ve been your fault.”

“Bullshit.” You state, tearing Dean’s gaze away from Sam. “You know damn well I do whatever I want. And I chose to be there, to distract you. And clearly it worked.” You smirk at him and nod to the chains securing him in place.

He doesn’t look angered by what you said. In fact, he smiles back. It’s clear he loves bantering back and forth with you. Even when he was human, you knew he’d never met anyone who could keep up with him the way you could. But this banter is different now.

“It sure did work.” He drawls. “You SURE did distract me.” He licks his lips and looks you up and down.

He looks over at Sam. “Do you know how she distracted me, Sammy? I bet you can guess.”

Sam’s eyes flash from Dean’s face to yours, and you feel your cheeks getting hot, but neither of you say anything.

“Oh, brother, you should’ve seen her.” Dean croons. “The things she let me do to her. Begged me to do. And I mean literally begged.” He’s still looking you up and down, and you know he’s replaying images in his head as he speaks.

“Mmm, mmm, mmm.” He goes on. “She is not just talented at hunting, Sammy, I’ll tell ya that.”

“Shut up.” Sam says, once again trying to stick up for you.

Dean just ignores him, looking at you.

“You were right.” He stares coldly into your eyes. “You are damaged.”

You try so hard not to show it, but the words knock the air from your lungs, and you know he can see it.

“I mean, come on, how messed up do you have to be to still love someone, still FUCK someone that you KNOW is a demon?” He mocks. Then, he looks from you to Sam.

“Oops.” He chuckles. “Guess that’s just one more thing you two have in common. You both have plenty of experience when it comes to fuckin’ demons, huh?”

Your stomach sinks and your heart seizes and you feel disgusted by everything he’s saying. Sam picks up another syringe and stomps toward him, and you see Dean’s menacing smile fade quickly.

Sam plunges the needle into his arm and presses, and he once again groans out in pain.

“I said shut up.” Sam whispers, before pulling the needle out and slamming the syringe back down onto the table. He walks up to you, standing between you and Dean, as Dean continues to growl out.

He looks into your eyes and gives you that signature puppy dog stare, knowing how hard it was to listen to everything Dean said and trying to soothe you however he can.

“Let’s take a break.” He says.

You look at Dean quickly, who has once again slumped forward and is grunting quietly, before looking back to Sam and nodding your head.

The two of you head out of the dungeon together and sit down in the library. Sam grabs the whiskey and pours a glass for each of you, and you both just sip it quietly for a few minutes.

Finally, your eyes connect with his and you take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, Sam.” You breathe.

He furrows his brows. “Why?”

“Everything Dean was saying… it’s true. I completely let myself go when I was with him. It was like I forgot he’s a demon. I can’t even lie, I honestly had a few minutes there where I thought maybe him and I could make it work. I… I’m such an idiot.” You close your eyes before taking another sip.

“Hey,” Sam says softly, placing a hand on your arm, “You are not an idiot.”

You just exhale sharply and shake your head, clearly not convinced.

Sam sighs.

“Look, I get it, okay? Trust me. As hard as I try to remember that he’s a demon, and why we’re doing this, I look at him and all I can see is my big brother.”

You soften as Sam speaks to you. As hard as this is for you, you can’t imagine how hard it must be for him, too. And yet he continues to push those needles into Dean. He continues to stay strong. And for that, you’re so proud of him.

“We’re gonna get him back.” You state. “And it’s gonna be because of you, Sammy. No matter what he says to you, I want you to remember that. You’re doing a great job. And the real Dean that’s in there, somewhere… I know he is so proud of his little brother.”

You see the emotion behind his eyes as he listens to what you’re saying, and you can tell how badly he needed to hear it.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He smiles. “And we are gonna get him back. But it’s not gonna be because of me. It’s gonna be because of us. Together.”

You smile back at him, and you each finish your drinks before he stands.

“I think maybe we should start taking shifts.” He says. “We could both use a breather now and then. I’ll head in there first.”

You look up at him with uncertain eyes.

“Are you sure? I mean… who knows what he’s gonna say to you when all of his anger is focused only on you, Sam.”

“No, I can handle it.” He states. “He’s my brother, I need to do this.”

You nod. “Okay. But… promise me you’ll tag me in when it gets to be too much?”

He nods back. “Promise.”

With that, he heads back to the dungeon. And you pour yourself another drink.

After about an hour of Sam in there by himself, he finally comes back out to the library. And he looks about ten times more exhausted than he did when he went in.

“Hey,” You say quietly, pouring him another drink as he sits down, “You okay?”

He just downs his drink in one large gulp as he looks at you.

“Got it.” You chuckle. “Stupid question.” You look at his tired eyes, and your heart aches for him.

“What did he say to you?” You ask.

He exhales sharply. “He said plenty.”

“Whatever it was,” You say, “He didn’t mean it. And every single injection was one step closer to having him back.”

“He keeps getting weaker and weaker.” Sam mutters. “I mean, what if we aren’t saving him? What if we’re-"

“No.” You cut him off. “Don’t think like that, okay?” You look deep into his eyes, your own eyes studying him, trying to calm him without words. You see him relax slightly as he chuckles lightly.

“What?” You ask.

“Now look who’s giving the puppy dog stare.” He says.

You smile at him and shake your head before standing up.

“Okay, I’m goin’ in, coach.” You say.

He chuckles again.

“Good luck. If you need me, I’ll be right out here.”

“I won’t.” You say, pouring him another drink. “And you need a break.”

You pat him on the shoulder and make your way towards the dungeon.

When you reach the door, you realize how fast your heart is beating. You’re nervous to be alone with Dean for so many reasons. You’re nervous about all the things he’s going to say to hurt you. You’re nervous about seeing him so weak, in so much pain. You’re nervous about making that pain even worse by injecting him again. And you’re nervous that the second you’re alone with him, you might fall right back under his spell.

But none of those things matter right now. Because you know what you need to do.

You take a deep breath before opening the door and walking inside. Once inside, you see him – his head hanging forward, limp, and his chest moving slowly. Your heart hurts seeing him this way, and it’s so hard not to just rush up to him and hold his face in your hands and comfort him.

But you can’t. You have to stay strong.

Instead, you grab a chair and drag it just outside the Devil’s Trap, so that you’re sitting only a couple feet in front of him. He coughs a few times before slowly lifting his head, focusing his gaze on you.

“Well, hey there, Gorgeous.” He says weakly.

“Hi.” You answer quietly. “You look like shit.”

He laughs.

“Yeah, well, I feel even worse.”

“You gotta hang in there.” You say.

He laughs again in frustration, but he looks like he doesn’t have much energy left to argue with you.

“It’s not your fault, you know. Any of it.” You say.

He raises his eyebrows at you, and you clarify.

“You didn’t ask for this. To be a demon. Whatever you did, whatever you’ve said. It’s not your fault. And it’s gonna be okay.”

“You tryin’ to comfort me, darlin’?” He grins. “You still got that soft spot for me?”

“You know I do.” You answer seriously. “You know I always will.”

He leans forward slightly.

“Then let me out.” He whispers with a smile, his green eyes boring into you. “Come on, it’s not too late for you and I to run away. Just us. Together. Forever.”

This time, you’re the one who chuckles.

“You’re good, you know that?” You say, leaning forward as well. “Those god damn eyes. You sure know how to use them.”

“Sweetheart,” He licks his lips and lowers his voice to a deep gravel, “I know how to use all parts of me.”

“Yeah, you do.” You say with a seductive smile.

His grin widens, he thinks he’s got you under his spell again, until you stand up and head toward the table with all of the syringes. You pick one up and turn around, still smiling.

“And you can remind me how you use all those parts…” You whisper, “…just as soon as you’re human again.”

His smile fades slightly, but not completely, as if he’s impressed by the way you were the one to fool him this time. But when you take a step toward him with the syringe, you can see the unease all over his face.

“You two are so sure you’re curing me, but I gotta tell you, Sweetheart, it feels a Hell of a lot more like you’re killin’ me.”

You look at him earnestly.

“We’re not killing you, Dean. We’re saving you.” With that, you inject him once more. He groans deep in his throat and squeezes his eyes closed, and you pull the syringe away and take a step back, looking at him.

“And you’re just gonna have to shut up and take it, tough guy.” With that, you place the syringe down on the table.

You continue this way for a few more injections, him weakly telling you to stop before each one, and you gritting your teeth and doing it anyway. Although it pains you to hurt him, you know it has to be done. And you can’t leave it all on Sam’s shoulders.

After almost an hour, and the third injection, he’s dripping sweat, wincing and grunting quietly, and his breathing is ragged. He coughs weakly a few times before looking up at you, standing in front of him.

“It ain’t workin’, darlin’. Sooner or later, you’re gonna have to accept that.” He rasps.

“Like Hell I am.” You state, crossing your arms.

He chuckles breathlessly.

“You are the most stubborn chick I’ve ever met, you know that?”

“Yeah, well,” You respond, turning to grab yet another syringe, “That’s why you love me.”

“No,” He states, “I don’t.”

You freeze, turning back around slowly to look at him. He’s just staring back at you with no emotion, no feeling behind his eyes.

“I don’t love you. You were right. I can’t, not like this. You and Sammy keep talkin’ about the ‘real me’ deep inside here somewhere. But that just ain’t the case, Sweetheart.” He smiles as he sees his words getting to you.

“This is me now. And you may not want to believe it, but no matter how many times you shoot me up, I still just want to rip both of your throats out the first chance I get. And I just can’t change that.” He looks at the syringe in your hand. “And neither can you.”

Your heart sinks in your chest as he speaks. He just continues looking at you, smiling, knowing the way his words cut through you, and not caring at all.

You swallow hard and furrow your brows, stepping forward and plunging the needle in his arm, closing your eyes when you hear the pained growl that escapes his lips. You step back, take a deep breath, and slam the empty syringe down, glaring down at him the whole time.

“You can say whatever you want.” You assert. “But Sam and I, we aren’t stopping. I promised you I’d never give up on you, remember that?”

He continues coughing and furrowing his brows in pain as he looks up at you.

You narrow your eyes and lean toward him.

“I keep my promises.” You whisper, before turning around and walking out of the dungeon.

As soon as you’re out, your strong façade must fade immediately because Sam jumps up from his seat when he sees your face.

“What did he say?” Sam asks.

“Oh, you know,” You say, “He doesn’t love me, he wants to rip our throats out, the usual.”

Sam scoffs. “You know it’s not true.”

“Actually, Sam… it is.” You mutter.

He just looks at you, confused.

“I mean obviously the REAL Dean doesn’t feel that way. But… that’s not the real Dean. And I think we’ve been telling ourselves that the real Dean is somewhere deep in there, but… I don’t think he is. I’m not saying I don’t think the cure will work, because I do. But I think until it does, the Dean that’s in that dungeon right now would kill us both without hesitation.”

Sam swallows hard, but nods subtly.

“You’re right.” He says. “I didn’t wanna believe it, but I know you are. Which is exactly the reason we need to finish this cure.”

“I think we’re close.” You utter.

“I do, too.” He answers. “At this point, any one of these injections could be the one that finally brings him back.”

“Then let’s finish this thing, Ivy League.” You say with a smile.

He grins back, and the two of you head back toward the dungeon. Sam opens the door and you both begin to walk inside, until you’re stopped dead in your tracks at the sight of the chair in the middle of the Devil’s Trap.

Completely empty.

You exchange panicked glances and you both immediately switch into fight mode, Sam grabbing the demon blade and you grabbing an angel blade that you already know you won’t use on Dean even if you need to.

Sam looks at you once more before heading out of the dungeon. You begin to follow him but you pause, turning around to grab a full syringe from the table and shoving it in your back pocket. When you exit the dungeon, Sam is nowhere in sight, and you realize it might be best to split up anyway and cover more ground while looking for Dean.

Or maybe that’s just what you’re telling yourself to make yourself feel better right now.

You walk slowly, carefully, down each hallway, trying to mentally prepare yourself to see Dean’s face around each and every corner. But you don’t see him. And for a while, you don’t hear him either. There’s almost an eerie silence as the three of you walk around the bunker, all waiting to find each other, waiting for one of you to make a move.

Then, you hear him.

“I told you two, I didn’t wanna be cured. I told you, it wouldn’t work!” He shouts. His voice seems to echo through every room and every hallway at once, and you have no idea where it’s coming from.

“Well, I guess it worked a little. See, all that blood you two pumped into me to make me human, well, the less demon I was, the less the cuffs worked. And that Devil’s Trap, I just walked right across it. It smarted, but still…”

You're walking more quickly now, desperately trying to find the source of his voice. You know you should be trying to walk in the opposite direction of wherever he is, but you don’t care. You can’t run away from him forever. And you can’t risk him finding Sam without you there to help.

“Don’t worry, though!” He bellows. “I’ve just got just enough demon left in me to do what I promised you both I would!”

Your blood runs cold hearing that, but you continue looking for him, clutching the blade that you know, deep down, will be completely useless for you if you do find him.

“Come on, Sammy! Don’t you wanna spend some quality time with your big brother?” Dean taunts. “Sweetheart? How about you? Come here! I just wanna give those sweet lips a kiss!”

As you round another corner, you can tell you’re getting closer to the source of his voice. And then, what you hear makes your stomach drop.

“Ah, there you are, little brother!” You hear Dean exclaim.

“Dean, no!” You hear Sam beg.

You hear grunting and scuffling and you’re instantly sprinting down the hallway and around the corner, desperate to stop Dean from doing what you know he will if he’s given the chance. You round another corner and it’s then that you see Dean wrestling the demon blade from Sam’s hand before punching him hard across the face with the butt of the knife. You watch Sam fall, landing unconscious on the ground. Without hesitation, Dean raises the blade above him, a terrifying grin on his face, his eyes an endless black, and you feel as though time stops for a second as panic floods your body.

You can’t let him do this. You can’t let him kill his brother. These boys are each other’s whole world. And they are your whole world. And you will do anything it takes to save them both.

“NO!” You scream.

Dean freezes, looking over at you. His grin only widens when he sees you, and he immediately starts walking toward you. His strides are so quick, so deliberate, that you only have time backpedal a few feet around the corner before he’s merely inches from you.

But you don’t care. That’s all you wanted. All you needed. To get him down the hall and around the corner, away from Sam.

You suddenly realize you’re holding your breath, and let out a shaky one as you look at the terrifying figure in front of you, smile still plastered on his face, knife still gripped firmly in his hand.

His black eyes flash down to the blade in your hand, then back to your face.

“What are you gonna do with that, Sweetheart?”

You could run. It’s a long shot but if you turn quickly enough, you could sprint down the hall and you’d be away from him in seconds. You might get far enough that you could run into a room and buy yourself some time. But that would leave him to turn his attention back to his unconscious little brother, and you can’t allow that. You could swing the blade. One swift movement might be enough to take him by surprise and hurt him enough for you and Sam to overpower him. Or enough to kill him and end this all. But you love him too much to risk his life, even like this, so you can’t do that either.

With a shaky hand, you let go of the blade, and it sounds incredibly loud to you as it clatters to the floor.

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, and in a flash he grabs you by the throat, pinning you against the wall, and resting the tip of the blade against your chest, just between your breasts.

You gasp in surprise and you feel him starting to press the blade against you even harder.

“Wait, wait!” You cry out, desperation lacing your tone.

He does wait, pausing to look at you. He isn’t holding your throat too tight, not choking the life out of you like he had before. He’s just gripping it firmly enough to keep you pinned against the wall.

His eyes are still black, but he raises his eyebrows as if to gesture for you to go on, and explain to him what exactly he should be waiting for.

“I just… I just need to say something. Please.” You murmur.

He scoffs.

“When will you and Sam learn, huh? There is no ‘real Dean’ in here for you to reach. You’re not gonna magically bring me back with some sappy words. It doesn’t matter what you say to me.” He says coldly.

“I know.” You breathe, feeling tears begin to burn your eyes and the back of your throat. “I know it won’t. But please, just give me one minute. Just one minute to say something to you.”

He stares at you intently for a few brief seconds, as if he’s making up his mind. Finally, he sighs dramatically.

“Fine.”

You look into the emotionless black of his eyes, and you can’t bring yourself to say everything you’re feeling to those empty black orbs.

“To you. To your eyes. Your real ones.” You utter.

He looks frustrated and he squeezes you a little tighter, and you gasp once more.

“Dammit, Dean, please just let me see those green eyes one more time!” You demand desperately.

He smirks slightly. “Alright.” He blinks once and the black gives way to beautiful green once more.

“But only because I like it when you beg.”

Despite everything, those green irises calm you, and you feel yourself relax slightly.

“Minute starts now.” He states.

You take a deep, shaky breath as you begin.

“I promised you… I would never give up on you. And I’m here. I am right here. And I need you to know it’s going to be okay. I need you to know it’s not your fault.” Your voice breaks slightly. “It’s gonna be hard. But… I need you to forgive yourself. Because you are a good man.”

You hesitantly bring your left hand up to gently touch his cheek, and you’re surprised when he allows this. You feel the emotion overtake you once more as you feel the familiar sensation of his scruff on your palm.

“You are a hero.” You say, your thumb now carefully caressing him. “And you have to keep going. For you. And for Sammy.”

Suddenly, he presses the blade against you even harder and you feel it beginning to draw blood. You gasp in surprise and pain as the tears continue to burn your eyes, and you pull your hand away from his face.

“Minute’s runnin’ out, Sweetheart.” He drawls.

You feel the ache of sadness rush through your body, knowing that everything you’re saying to him may be for nothing. May not be getting through. May never get through.

But you have to tell him. If these are your last few breaths, you have to use them to tell him everything you feel. Everything you need him to know.

“You said I would always be the one to bring you back. You told me that. And you were right.”

You very subtly reach your shaky hand into your back pocket, gripping the syringe resting there. Your tearful eyes look deeply into his, and he stares back at you. His face is serious, intently studying yours as you speak to him.

“You are the only one for me, Dean Winchester.” You say softly, your heart aching, the tears continuing to well.

You study his face again, burning his beauty into your mind. You look at his emerald green eyes and think about all the times they’ve stared into yours and comforted you when you thought you were past the point of no return. You look at his mouth and remember all the times he’s flashed those teeth at you while making a cheesy joke or singing along to the same few tapes over and over again. You think of all the times those lips have been pressed against yours, sending a warmth like no other coursing through your veins.

He means everything to you.

And you’ll do anything for him.

You give him that stare you always have when you’re saying something more important than he realizes. Past his eyes, deep within him, and you’re just praying it’ll reach something, somewhere, in there.

“There’s one thing I need to you to know more than anything else.” You breathe, the tears now rolling down your cheeks.

You feel your body trembling and your breath hitches in your throat as you keep your eyes fixated on his.

“I love you.” You breathe.

Everything after that seems to move in slow motion.

You grip the syringe tightly in your hand, pulling it from your back pocket. You hold your breath as you swing your arm up, pressing the tip of the needle into the side of his neck. In one fluid motion, you press down on the syringe, plunging the contents into him.

And in that very same instant, you feel the white hot pain of the blade plunging into your chest.

You see his eyes go wide with shock, and it’s as if he’s equally surprised by both of your actions.

You gasp as the pain knocks the breath from your body. Your eyes connect with his for a second that’s incredibly brief and yet also seems to last forever. Suddenly, you gasp once more as he pulls the knife from your chest and you pull the needle from his neck at the same time.

You fall back against the wall, clutching the wound on your chest with one hand and still firmly gripping the syringe with the other. You watch as his left hand flies up to clutch the side of his neck while his other hand continues to hold tight to the blood-coated knife.

You see the confusion and pain on his face as the fresh dose of blood now coursing through his veins distracts him from everything else. His eyes flash black once more and he huffs out in frustration and agony as he stumbles backwards. You feel your legs beginning to give out beneath you at the same time you feel the blood beginning to spill out past your fingers. You slide down, still leaning against the wall, until your legs give out completely and you fall to the ground.

You watch as Dean growls out in pain, still clutching his neck, and stumbles around the corner until he’s out of your sight.

What you don’t see, is him stumbling down the hall just as Sam is waking up. Sam blinks a few times before the sound of his brother’s pained growls pulls him fully into consciousness. He sits up immediately as he sees Dean, just as Dean falls to his knees, still holding tightly to the side of his neck.

Dean’s practically screaming now as the blood courses through his veins and burns him up, and Sam rushes toward him, his concern for his brother outweighing his fear of what his brother might still do to him.

“Dean?!” He shouts, dropping to his knees in front of his brother and grabbing Dean’s face in his hands. “Hey, can you hear me?!”

Dean’s loud growls begin to fade to subtle groans as the pain slowly begins to dull. He lets go of his neck, shaking his head and blinking hard a few times before looking at Sam. Sam watches in shock as the black of Dean’s eyes slowly begins to dissipate, fading away until there’s nothing left but the green underneath.

Dean continues to look at his brother, confused.

“Sammy?” He rasps.

“Dean?” Sam asks eagerly. “Is it… is it really you?”

Dean thinks for a few seconds, as if he needs to make sure for himself.

“Yeah,” He breathes, “Yeah, Sam, it’s really me.”

Sam exhales sharply as his shocked expression melts into one of pure happiness. He smiles at Dean and Dean smiles back. This moment of joy is brief, however, because just then Sam looks down at the bloody knife still in Dean’s right hand.

“Dean…” Sam croaks, staring at the knife.

Dean looks down too, more confusion washing over him as he sees the knife in his own hand.

“Dean,” Sam swallows hard, “Where’s Y/N?”

They share terrified glances and in that instant, they’re both overcome with panic as they jump to their feet, screaming your name and rushing down the hall and around the corner.

And they both freeze when they round that corner and see you.

You’re lying on your back, taking shallow, choked breaths, your left hand clutching your chest, blood pouring out over your fingers and joining the already massive pool beneath you.

They both notice the empty syringe still in your right hand, and they exchange knowing looks as both of them realize the gravity of what you’ve done. As they realize that you didn’t just save Dean. You didn’t just bring him back. You sacrificed yourself to save Sam as well.

What a sick, twisted irony this is for Dean. That you saved his brother’s life, the only possible act that could make him somehow love you even more, and that act is what may now have cost you your life.

“NO!” Dean shouts desperately, dropping the knife and rushing toward you, dropping to his knees next to you.

Sam follows right behind him, dropping to his knees on your other side.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” Dean begs as he pulls you into his lap. “Sweetheart, hey! Look at me. Please, please look at me.”

You focus your bleary eyes on Dean’s face, and a smile instantly lights yours up as you study him.

“Hey, there he is.” You croak.

Your eyes flash from Dean’s face to Sam’s, now smiling at Sam as well.

“We did it, Sammy.” You mutter.

Tears begin to well in Sam eyes as he looks down at you.

“No,” He lets out a broken chuckle. “You did it.”

You smile at him for a few more seconds before turning back to Dean, seeing the panic and pain all over his face as he desperately presses his hands against your chest and watches your blood continue to pour out past his fingers.

“This isn’t happening.” He says, his tearful eyes looking over to his brother. “God, please tell me this isn’t happening.”

“Hey,” You say softly, “Hey, look at me.”

His teary eyes look from his brother’s face down to yours and you smile at him again.

“Hey there, handsome.”

“Hi, Sweetheart.” He breathes, placing a calloused hand on your cheek.

“Did you hear… everything I said to you?” You ask him.

He furrows his brows and squeezes his eyes closed, which forces his tears to fall down his face. He nods subtly before opening his eyes again.

“Yes.”

“Good.” You whisper. “I meant it. You have to keep going.”

You look over at Sam and see the tears streaming down his face.

“You both have to.” You say.

Sam just lets out a small sob as he nods.

“No, no, come on.” Dean begs. “No ‘I love you and goodbye crap’, remember? I-I can’t do this without you. We can’t do this without you.” His voice cracks as he speaks, the desperation and pain bubbling out with every word.

“You can. And you have to. You’re the guys who save the world.” You chuckle. “And you’re gonna have to save it again.”

“No, I can’t.” Dean cries. “God, no, please. Cass! Cass!” He bellows for the angel, looking around desperately, but no one shows. “Someone! Fuck! Anyone!”

He looks back down at you, the tears continuing to fall.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” He whimpers.

“No.” You say. “Knock that off, tough guy. It’s okay. I make my own choices. Stubborn as Hell, remember?”

“Why the hell did you have to do this, huh?” He asks you angrily. “What were you thinking?!” He shouts.

“Well, you know me,” You croak with a smile, “can’t help but be reckless.”

He lets out a broken laugh as he rubs your cheek and looks down at you, his eyes exuding all the love you’d been missing the entire time he was a demon. And somehow, despite everything, that makes you feel okay. It makes you feel at home, one last time.

“Please…” He gasps. “Don’t leave me like this. I just got back, you can’t leave me like this. Not now.”

“You have to know,” You whisper, looking between him and Sam, “You both have to know… you saved my life. The two of you… are the reason my life means anything to me at all.”

And as you look at them, as you look at these boys – your boys - you realize just how true that is. As you feel your life literally slipping through your fingers, you don’t feel afraid. You feel grateful. You are so grateful to them for the way they have shown you how to live, how to love, in a way that you never thought possible. And the way you’re looking at them right now, you know they feel that from you. And that’s all you can ask for.

Sam clenches his jaw and squeezes his eyes closed as the tears drop down his cheeks.

“Sweetheart, please…” Dean begs as he pulls you further into his lap, his thumb caressing your cheek gently.

“Hey,” You breathe, forcing him to look into your fading eyes. “You’re the best god damn destiny a girl could ask for.” You finish with a smile.

He smiles back as he lets out a broken sob, his green eyes taking in every inch of your face.

“I love you, Y/N.” He whispers.

“I could say…” Your voice begins to fade as the world around you fades with it, “the same… to you…” Your Y/E/C eyes connect with his bloodshot bright green ones one last time as you breathe out, “…Winchester.”

Then, your eyes close.

And the life fades from you completely.

Your body goes limp in his lap, your left hand relaxing, no longer tightly clutching your chest and your right hand still loosely holding the empty syringe.

“No,” Dean gasps, “Sweetheart, please…” He holds your face tightly, desperately searching for some sign of life.

He looks up at his brother, and he and Sam exchange tearful, broken-hearted glances as reality comes crashing down on them.

“No, no, no… NO!” Dean cries once more before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, burying his face into you, and sobbing into your Y/H/C hair.

After a few moments of this, he pulls away, once again studying your lifeless face.

“You were the one, Y/N.” His swollen eyes look down at you intensely.

He clutches the side of your face as his tears continue fall and his lips quiver.

“You were the only one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here's another secret I want to let you all in on: when I originally thought up this story, my plan was to end it here. Just like this.
> 
> But I have enjoyed writing this and sharing this with all of you so much, that I don't want to do that anymore. I don't want to let go just yet. Don't wanna let go of you guys, or the boys, or this story.
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this chapter and you don't hate me for it. Like I said, I promise I am not done. And you never know what can happen when it comes to Supernatural.
> 
> Thank you so, so much for reading.
> 
> I love you all.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How are the boys facing life without the reader?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all - quick moment of sappiness - just gotta repeat how much I love you guys.
> 
> The reactions I got to the last chapter were incredible and meant so, so much to me. This is the first thing I've ever written, on AO3 or anywhere, and the support I've gotten on it has been super surprising and wonderful.
> 
> I'm so happy to know that you guys are enjoying this and want it to continue as badly as I do. So thanks again.
> 
> Okay okay, back to your regularly scheduled angst.

“I need you to know it’s going to be okay.”

He feels himself staring into your tearful eyes.

“I need you to know it’s not your fault.”

He feels his hand grasping your throat, holding you in place. Why is he pinning you like this? What if he’s hurting you?

“I need you to forgive yourself.”

He feels himself grinning. Why… why is he grinning? You’re scared and you’re crying so why does he feel himself smiling at your pain?

“You have to keep going.”

He feels himself pushing something against you, and you gasp out in fear. The pain on your face is killing him inside, so why won’t he just let you go?

“I love you.”

He loves you too. God, does he love you too. He wants to wrap you in his arms and hold you close and tell you that he loves you a million times over.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he feels himself shove something forward. Hard. Your teary eyes go wide and he looks down and sees himself holding the blade that is now hilt-deep in your chest.

No.

No no no.

No no no no no no no.

“NO!” He gasps as he sits up in bed, his hands gripping the blanket tightly.

His chest heaves as his wide green eyes bounce around the room in a panic, before realization slowly begins to wash over him.

Nightmare.

The same damn nightmare he has every night. The one that feels so real, every single time. The one with memories so detailed, it’s as if they happened yesterday.

But they didn’t happen yesterday.

They happened four months ago.

His jaw quivers as he stares into the darkness of his room, once again having to wake up and remind himself that this is still his reality. You’re still dead. And he’s still the one that killed you.

He lays back down slowly, feeling the unending emptiness of his bed without you in it. He closes his eyes once more, but not to go back to sleep. Just to picture your face in his head.

This is his ritual now, every night. He drinks himself to sleep, has that same nightmare, and wakes up the same way. Then, he spends the rest of the night replaying every last memory he has with you over and over again in his head. He doesn’t want to forget a moment, not a second, of the time he had with you. Every cocky little smirk that mirrored his own, every intense gaze that set him on fire, every badass move that saved his ass, every sing along and inside joke and cuddle session.

And every kiss.

He needs to remember them all. Replay them all, from the very first time, so that they never fade. They’re all too god damn precious to let any of them fade.

This wasn’t his ritual at first.

No, of course it wasn’t.

When it first happened, he held you for a long time. He sat on the floor, as your blood continued to pool around him, and held you close to him. He pressed his forehead to yours, squeezing his eyes closed as his tears fell, silently willing you, with every fiber of his being, to come back to him.

But you didn’t.

And after a little while, Sam convinced him to bring you to your room. He placed your lifeless body in your bed and stared down at you, feeling an emptiness unlike anything he’d ever felt. He’d lost people before. Hell, he’d lost his little brother before. And it was the hardest thing he had ever dealt with.

But he wasn’t the one who killed him.

This was different. You were the love of his life, and he was the one who took yours.

What he felt, as he looked down at you, was a level of heartbreak he didn’t even know he could feel. His swollen eyes burned as fresh tears continued to well. His shaky hands were covered in your still-drying blood. His throat was raw from screaming for a salvation that never came.

All of his emotions sat in the pit of his stomach and made him feel sick. He missed you already. His bones already ached with a need to see your smile, to see your Y/E/C eyes light up again. Part of him was angry at you, for sacrificing yourself to bring him back. But you also sacrificed yourself to save his brother, and for that he loved you even more.

He wasn’t angry at himself, though.

No, angry wasn’t the right word.

He loathed himself.

He deserved to be the one laying there on that bed, not you. You saved him and his brother, over and over again, in so many ways, and that was all you got for it. Stabbed in the heart.

By him.

He couldn’t even comprehend the idea of looking at his own face in the mirror. All he ever did was hurt you. From the start until the end. The irony made him nauseous, the fact that your relationship started with him plunging a blade into your chest in Hell and then it ended the exact same way.

He tried to think about what you told him. That it wasn’t his fault. That he needed to forgive himself. That he needed to keep going. But as he looked down at you - pale, cold, lifeless – the pain tore through his chest, and all he could think about was how he didn’t even deserve to be breathing. He failed you in every other way, right? Why not fail you one last time by ignoring your final wish?

But he decided he would keep breathing. Though every breath made his heart ache, he needed to keep breathing. Because if nothing else came out of his miserable existence, the one thing he was going to do was bring you back. He promised himself that. And as he looked down at you, he promised you that.

But that was four months ago.

That first night, Dean decided he wouldn’t burn your body. He couldn’t. You would need it, when he brought you back. And even though Sam knew that probably wasn’t a good idea, he couldn’t bear to look into his brother’s heartbroken eyes and tell him that.

So, they buried you. In silence.

And then, they got to work.

At first, they worked tirelessly to bring you back. They tore through every last book on every last shelf, looking for any spell or ritual that might bring you back to them. They continued to call and pray to Cass, but heard nothing from him. And knowing the shape he had been in without his grace, they knew he probably wouldn’t be able to help anyway. They even tried to summon Crowley, but got no response. They assumed he was probably lying low, knowing Lucifer was out there somewhere. They tried calling him, but his line was disconnected. They also knew he probably wanted nothing to do with them for a while, after his experience with Dean as a demon.

The funny thing was, they knew that if they could just tell him what happened to you, he’d show up in a heartbeat.

As time went on, their desperation grew. But their list of ideas didn’t. One night, after a particularly frustrating day of dead ends, they both hopped in the Impala and Dean sped down the road to the nearest crossroads. As they looked at each other, they both knew it was a bad idea. That you’d kill them both yourself if they did it. But they didn’t care. They needed you back. And they’d do anything to achieve that. They were on the same page about that.

But it didn’t matter.

Because the crossroads demon laughed in their faces.

“You two are old news.” She told them. “You think we’d trade your souls for the one God himself chose to be the lock on Lucifer’s cage? Not a chance.”

So, they returned to the bunker even more defeated than before.

After killing the demon, of course.

Every day after that only got harder.

The motivation and determination Dean felt in the beginning helped him ignore the anger and heartache beneath the surface. But as the dead ends piled up, those emotions began to overtake him. He refused to go into your room. As badly as he wanted to lay on your sheets and inhale your scent, he couldn’t do it.

He started drinking, all the time. He had a bottle of whiskey in every room of the bunker. Not that he left his own room very often. Sam would watch him with pained eyes, trying to think of words to say to reassure his brother, but coming up completely empty. It was too hard for Sam to reassure Dean when his heart was just as shattered as his brother’s.

So now, here they are.

Four months without you.

And this is Dean’s routine.

Yet another agonizing night of drunken nightmares. Of seeing your eyes as he plunged his own knife into your heart. Of trying desperately to think of all the memories he has of you, because the idea of losing a single second of the time you shared would somehow make this pain even worse. He feels the anger, he feels the Mark burning on his arm. He wants to tear the door off of its hinges. He wants to hurl his bed across the room. He wants to rip the whole bunker apart, piece by piece, and let the whole god damn thing crumble down on top of him.

But he doesn’t express the anger he’s feeling. He can’t even bring himself to do it. Because as angry as he is, he’s something else, too. Something worse.

Dean Winchester is completely, utterly, and profoundly broken.

And he doesn’t know how much longer he can go on without you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *insert crying emoji here*
> 
> Sorry guys, you know I love my sad boys.
> 
> I promise there will be plenty more detail in the upcoming chapters. Detail about the boys, Cass, Crowley, and.... someone else? Is there another character? I can't remember...
> 
> Just kidding.
> 
> We'll find out what the hell is gonna happen with her. Promise.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam also faces his feelings in the wake of losing the reader, and does whatever he can to try and bring his brother back from the edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> I've been bombarding you with angst lately, and I'm sorry for that.
> 
> But not sorry enough to stop.

Sam misses you so much. He knows what you had with Dean was special, and he knows he can’t understand what his brother is going through.

But he still misses you so much.

He loves you. You’re his family. You’re a part of him. You became a part of him and a part of this ridiculous gang of misfits.

And then you left.

You died. To save him. And his brother.

He knows Dean blames himself. And he wishes he didn’t. It wasn’t Dean’s fault. He was a demon. And as much as Sam wants to break down his brother’s door and scream at him to stop blaming himself, he can’t.

Because that would make him a hypocrite.

Because truthfully, he blames himself, too.

He knows what you did for him. The last thing he saw before everything went dark in that hallway was his brother raising that same knife above him. But somehow, he’s not the one who was stabbed.

No, not somehow.

He knows how.

Because you ran around that corner and distracted Dean. You drew him over to you, knowing full well what he would do to you, just to keep him away from Sam.

Just to save Sam’s life. And to bring Dean back.

In the most reckless, badass, brilliant way possible. So stereotypically you.

He misses you.

But he knows as much as he is suffering, his big brother is suffering even more.

And he needs to be there for his brother right now. Because you begged them to keep going. And as hard as it is, Sam is going to try. For you.

It’s 11:00am on the fourth day in a row since Dean’s left his room, when Sam finally knocks gently on his door before opening it slowly.

“Uh,” He clears his throat, nervous to disturb his brother, “Dean?”

As he opens the door, he sees his brother, whiskey bottle in hand, sitting back against his headboard, bloodshot eyes glazed over and staring forward into nothingness. The sight alone is enough to make Sam’s heart sink, even though it’s exactly what he was expecting.

“Dean.” He repeats quietly.

Dean’s eyes flick to meet Sam’s, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I, uh, I made some coffee.” Sam mutters. “And bacon.”

Dean takes another swig of his whiskey.

“Not hungry.” He rasps.

“Dean.” Sam’s sad eyes plead with his older brother. “Please.”

Dean looks at Sam, and softens slightly. He sees the pain in his little brother’s puppy dog stare, and he knows how much you being gone must be killing him, too.

“Alright, Sammy.” He whispers. “Alright.”

He slowly gets out of bed and stands, turning to face his brother. Sam smiles slightly as he turns to leave the room, and Dean follows behind.

Dean sits down at the kitchen table, simply staring at the large plate of bacon in front of him. Sam pours him a mug full of coffee and places it down in front of him, and Dean looks up at him with a grateful nod before bringing the mug to his lips.

Sam pours himself a mug as well before eventually bringing himself to sit down across from Dean. He watches as Dean just stares down into the empty blackness of his coffee, not saying a word.

Sam clears his throat again, not sure how to even begin a conversation.

“Look, Dean, I…” He closes his eyes and sighs. “I am so sorry.”

Dean’s jaw clenches and he grips his mug a little tighter, but he doesn’t look up from his coffee.

“I know you’re not okay.” Sam says. “And, honestly, I’m not either. But, Dean, you need to know it wasn’t your fau-"

“Don’t, little brother.” Dean croaks, before finally tearing his eyes away from his coffee to look into Sam’s eyes. “Don’t.”

“But, Dean-"

“I can’t talk about it.” Dean states, his voice shaky and quiet. “I can’t do it, Sam.”

Sam stops trying to speak, now just looking at Dean with, big, sad eyes, letting Dean go on.

“This isn’t like Bobby, or Benny, or Kevin.” Dean says. “I mean, losin’ them, it hurt like Hell. It did. And we blamed ourselves, and then we would always reach a point where we’d start tellin’ each other it wasn’t our fault. And then we’d eventually accept that, and try to move on.”

Sam just clenches his jaw, listening to his brother silently.

“This isn’t that.” Dean utters. “This is different. SHE was different, Sammy.”

His sad green eyes stare at Sam for a few more seconds before he looks back down at his coffee and mumbles, “So, please don’t. Because I can’t even hear it right now.”

Sam swallows hard, but nods his head. He knows you were different. And truthfully, he doesn’t have anything else to say to that.

Suddenly, a slight breeze washes over the room and before the two of them can react, Cass is standing at the end of the table looking down at the both of them.

“Cass?!” Sam exclaims as he stands and takes a step toward the angel, “Where the Hell have you been? How… how are you even here? Last time we talked you were practically bed ridden without your grace! We thought… I don’t even know what we thought.”

Dean stands as well, but he doesn’t stand next to Cass or Sam. He walks past the both of them and grabs a bottle of whiskey from the counter, walking back to his seat at the table and sitting back down as he pours the whiskey into his coffee.

Cass furrows his brows as he watches Dean, then looks over to Sam. Sam just stares back, the sadness radiating from his features. Cass looks down gloomily, but begins to answer Sam.

“I, uh… I was. Bed ridden, I mean. For a while. And then, I was kidnapped by angels.”

Sam’s eyes go wide once more as he listens to Cass, but Dean doesn’t even react. He just sips his drink - which is now more whiskey than coffee - and listens quietly.

“Kidnapped?! What, when? By who? For how long?” Sam asks.

“It was about four months ago.” Cass answers. “It was Metatron’s followers.”

“Metatron?” Sam furrows his brows in confusion. “Isn’t he still locked up in heaven? I didn’t think he had any followers left after everything that went down.”

“He didn’t have many. Only a couple. But those couple were enough to break him out of Heaven.”

Dean still doesn’t react, but Sam is clearly shocked as he listens to Cass go on.

“And he wanted revenge on those who got him locked up in the first place. Starting with me. So his very few loyal followers came after me. I was held captive – tortured - for a short time.”

“Jesus, Cass! We didn’t know.” Sam says. “So that’s why you weren’t able to help when…” He trails off as he notices Dean tense up and clench his jaw tightly.

“Yes.” Cass responds. “During that time, I… I heard your prayers to me. To help. To save-"

“Don’t.” Dean interrupts quietly, “Don’t say her name.”

Cass stops speaking, looking down sadly at Dean.

“I’m sorry.” Cass states, before continuing his story. “When they thought I was nearly dead, which truthfully, I nearly was… I fought back just enough to kill one and… and take his grace. Once I had that, it was easy to kill the rest and escape. Now, Metatron has no one left. But he is still out there somewhere. And I’ve spent the past couple of months on the hunt for him.”

“The last couple months?!” Sam demands. “And you couldn’t at least answer our prayers, our calls?! You couldn’t come try to help us bring her back?”

Cass closes his eyes briefly, the guilt evident on his face. He opens his eyes and looks apologetically at Sam.

“Believe me, I have been doing all I can to think of ways to bring her back. I thought… I thought that maybe Metatron might even know a way. And even if he doesn’t, he still deserves to die. He killed Dean. It’s his fault Dean ever died and became a demon in the first place.”

Sam is quiet for a few seconds, taking in everything that Cass is saying. He looks down at Dean, and sees the way Dean once again tenses up when Cass talks about him being a demon.

“Why didn’t you tell us about this, Cass?” Sam asks, still frustrated. “We could’ve been helping hunt him down. And it…” He sighs. ”It would have been something to give us hope.”

Cass once again looks down guiltily before looking back at Sam.

“I should have come earlier, and I’m sorry. But… I couldn’t bear to face the two of you. Or to be here. To be here… without her…”

Sam softens slightly, swallowing hard. “Yeah, I… I get it.”

Cass looks down once again at Dean.

“Dean, I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how you’re feel-"

“No,” Dean murmurs. “You can’t.”

Cass stares down at his feet, knowing there isn’t anything else he can say to Dean, and feeling broken-hearted as well.

“Dean, this could be good.” Sam says, looking at his brother. “This could be another lead. I mean, Metatron was the scribe of God and God did show a special interest in Y/N, so if anyone might know of another spell to bring her back, it might be him.”

Sam stops talking abruptly when he realizes he said your name out loud, and he sees the way his brother’s muscles tense up even further as he hears it.

“And what if he doesn’t, huh?” Dean asks, looking up, his sad eyes flicking between Sam and Cass. “Just one more dead end. More false hope.”

“Then we kill him.” Sam says, looking down at Dean with an intense gaze that he hopes will help light a fire under Dean.

Dean continues looking between Sam and Cass for a moment, the two of them holding their breath and silently hoping that they may have inspired him to finally have some hope of his own again.

“You two go ahead. Have at it.” He grumbles as he stands and grabs the bottle of whiskey from the table, eyeing them both once more before turning and walking out of the kitchen and back toward his room.

Sam and Cass exchange looks of disappointment.

“We need to convince him.” Cass says.

“We won’t.” Sam says, and Cass looks at him with raised eyebrows.

“Cass, this isn’t like any other time we’ve lost someone.” Sam explains. “He’s not okay. I… I don’t know if he ever will be. Not without her. And he isn’t ready for a hunt right now. But if finding Metatron could mean any chance at all of bringing her back… then I say we do it.”

“What about Dean?” Cass asks.

“I’m not gonna lie, leaving him here alone makes me nervous.” Sam answers, looking hesitant. “But bringing him with us on this makes me even more nervous.”

Cass nods in understanding.

“You said you have a lead?” Sam asks.

“Yes. I heard from some angels in Pennsylvania who have reason to believe he’s in the area. But, Sam, we have to get to him before they do. They think I’m helping in the hunt to lock him back away in prison in Heaven. But if they do that, we won’t have any access to him and we won’t have any leverage to make him talk to us. We have to hurry and get to him first, so that we can bring him back here.”

Sam nods, understanding the urgency of the situation, determination all over his face. He heads to his room to pack quickly, then walks to Dean’s room. He stands outside for a few seconds before gently knocking on the door.

Dean doesn’t answer, and truthfully, Sam didn’t expect him to. He takes a deep breath before talking to Dean through the door.

“Look, Dean, I… I miss her too, okay? More than anything. And I get you’re not ready to face anything right now, I do. But I need to do this. Cass and I, we need to do this. I know it might be another dead end. But I can’t…”

He pauses as his voice breaks. He takes another deep breath and clears his throat.

“I… I just need to try. I’ll check in, okay? Please... take care of yourself. We'll be back soon.”

He pauses briefly before walking away from his brother’s door. He hates leaving Dean here alone, especially in this state. But if he’s figured anything out from watching his brother recently, it’s that losing you isn’t something Dean’s going to get over. And right now, the best thing he can do for him is to try every last possible lead to bring you back. So that’s what he’s going to do.

On the other side of the door, Dean hears everything his brother is saying as he once again sits against his headboard, nursing his whiskey bottle. He knows he should be going with them, hunting down Metatron and chasing this lead, but he can’t do it. He doesn’t even have the energy. And he hates himself for that. But then again, he has plenty to hate himself for, so what does it really matter?

Honestly, without you, nothing really matters.

He just takes another sip and leans his head back against his headboard, feeling the all too familiar sting of tears burning his red eyes just as the whiskey burns his throat.

Darkness.

Unending, unyielding, overwhelming darkness.

For a few moments, that’s all you feel.

Until it’s not.

Your eyes fly open as you sit up, clutching your chest and gasping for air. Your wide eyes look down at your hand, still tightly gripping your chest, and you furrow your brows in confusion when you realize you’re not in pain. There’s no blood. You slowly pull your shaky hand away from your chest and look down at it, before your eyes shoot up to now look at your surroundings.

You’re lying in the corner of a small, plain, room. There’s no furniture, no windows, and the only light is from a small bulb hanging from the ceiling. You once again look down at your body. Your completely intact body. You’re wearing your dark ripped denim jeans, a black t-shirt, and a black and grey flannel. The same outfit you were wearing when you died.

You died.

Are you dead?

Is this Heaven? You’ve been to Hell, and this certainly doesn’t seem like Hell.

But it’s also a pretty shitty Heaven.

You stand slowly, and your legs feel wobbly, as if you haven’t used them in days. Or weeks. Or... longer.

You make your way toward the door and reach for the handle, but it doesn’t turn. You’re locked in. You jiggle it a little harder, and then begin throwing your body weight against it, trying to break it down. When it doesn’t budge, your frustration begins to build. You begin to pound on the door, hard and loud, over and over again.

“Hey!” You shout. “Where the Hell am I? HEY!”

Suddenly, the door flies open and sends you flying backward onto your butt a few feet back. You look up in surprise as a man enters the room slowly, closing the door behind him. He’s medium height and build, sandy brown hair, a large grin on his face.

He crosses his arms as he takes a step toward you, still smiling.

“Well, there she is. In all her glory. Pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

You narrow your eyes as you continue to study this man in front of you.

“Do I know you?” You demand.

“Well, you should.” He says tauntingly as he uncrosses his arms and leans down slightly, placing his hands on his knees. “I mean, you are the lovely young lady that set me free, after all.”

You look at him defiantly for a few more seconds before realization washes over you and your heart jumps into your throat. You feel your mouth go dry and you swallow hard. You maintain your strong gaze, refusing to let your face show the shock you feel, and look directly into his still smiling eyes.

“Lucifer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH!
> 
> Don't know about you guys, but I love me some Lucy. And this has been a long time comin'.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, love you guys a bunch!


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How will the reader's first interaction with Lucifer go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 40 chapters.
> 
> Are you kidding me?! You guys still like me? WHAT?

“Lucifer.” You utter.

His grin widens and he outstretches his arms, bowing slightly.

“At your service.”

You’re suddenly on high alert and there are about a million questions swirling around in your mind all at once, but you choose to go with the most obvious one first.

“Am I…”

“Dead?” He asks. “Nope. Well, not anymore. I brought you back.” He says confidently before winking at you. “You’re welcome.”

You shake your head slightly in disbelief.

“Why would YOU do that?”

“Well I couldn’t very well have you go off and die before I even got the chance to MEET you, now could I? I mean, you were Dad’s chosen one to keep me locked up in that cage. You gotta understand how that might make a boy curious about you.”

His eyes scan you up and down, and it’s then that you realize how vulnerable you feel still sitting on your ass in front of him. He’s intimidating, that’s for sure. But when has that ever stopped you before?

Slowly, you stand up, your shoulders straight and strong, and look directly into his eyes.

“Well, here I am.” You state.

He smirks slightly.

“Here you are.” He eyes you up and down once more before raising his eyebrows with a “Hm.”

You narrow your eyes slightly. “What?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” He hums as he walks over to the wall by the door, leaning back against it casually. “I just, I was so determined not to like you. I thought; ‘what could possibly make this girl so special that everyone is just fawning all over her? Huh? She’s just a simple human, for Dad’s sake.’”

You don’t react to his obvious insult, you just continue staring at him, your gaze unfaltering.

“But,” He points at you with a chuckle, “I get it. There really is something about you. I mean, I can already tell. You’ve got a… charm. Confidence. To my surprise, I can see the appeal.”

How ironic that he’s complimenting your confidence, when his confidence is already annoying you so much. You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t charming too, but he’s the kind of charming that makes your skin crawl. He’s Charles Manson kind of charming, not… not Dean Winchester kind of charming.

Dean.

His beautiful face flashes through your mind and you’re suddenly aching with how much you miss him. How much you miss both of your boys. Your head is swirling thinking of what might possibly be going on with them, or if they’re even okay. Do they still think you’re dead? Are they looking for you right now? How long have you even been away from them?

As overwhelmed as you are by all these questions, you can’t show it. You elect instead to ask another obvious question, as calmly as possible.

“Where are we?”

He just stares at your for a few seconds, as if he’s trying to understand why you don’t seem afraid of him at all. His focused expression melts back into a friendly one as he answers your question.

“Well, it’s not Heaven. We both know I’m not allowed up there. And it’s not Hell. Not yet, anyway. I’m still working on getting Crowley and all of his little minions out of there. The fact that that slimy little…” He grits his teeth and glares down at the floor, “…WORM has the balls to call himself King of Hell, especially now that I’m back…” He looks up at you and smiles, his angry expression fading, “Well, I’ll deal with him when I find him.”

You just stare at him for a few seconds before asking, “Well?”

“Well, what?” He asks.

“You didn’t answer my question.” You state flatly.

He once again looks surprised by your attitude, but he doesn’t look angry.

“Nevada.” He states. “We’re on a cozy little ranch in Nevada while I work on taking back what’s rightfully mine.”

“And what is that?” You ask.

He narrows his eyes at you and whispers, “Everything.”

Your eyes go wide for only half a second before you return to your strong gaze, but it’s long enough to make him smile.

“And I have you to thank for that, don’t I?”

Your stomach drops when he says that.

“I have you to thank for finally cracking and setting me free. Now, I’ll bet that you thought I was gonna be mad at you, right? For keeping me down there. But I’m not. No, no, of course I’m not. Why would I be? Huh? You didn’t know! You didn’t ask for that! Did you?”

You furrow your brows slightly, but you shake your head. He smiles again.

“Exactly. God’s the one who decided that for you. I can’t blame you for something that GOD did, can I? That just wouldn’t be right.”

He’s talking to you as if you’re a child afraid of being punished, so condescending and arrogant, and it takes all you have not to roll your eyes.

“Then why am I here?” You ask, clearly impatient.

He chuckles.

“I told you, Y/N. I was just curious about you. I wish you would just trust me.”

You scoff. “Trust the Devil? Yeah, I’m sure that’ll work out fantastically for me.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Fine. I’ll prove it. Ask me any questions you have, I’ll answer honestly. I’m sure there are quite a few swimming around in that pretty little head of yours.” He wiggles his finger toward your head as he says it.

“And how will I know if you’re actually answering honestly?” You ask incredulously.

“What reason do I have to lie?” He asks with a smile. “You’re already here. You’re not going anywhere. You don’t hold anything over me.”

Your stomach sinks slightly when you realize he’s right. You obviously still don’t trust him, but you do have questions. And at this point, it can’t hurt to ask.

“Are they okay?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, knowing exactly what you mean without any further elaboration.

“Figures your first concern would be THEM. Yes, the Winchesters are fine. At least, as far as I know. I haven’t been anywhere near them.”

That surprises you slightly, but you don’t react to it. You’re already thinking about your next question.

“How… how long ago did I die?”

“Four months.” He states flatly.

You feel the color rush out of your cheeks when he says it. Four months. You’ve been dead for four months, and the boys have been without you all this time. Dean’s been without you all this time. You shake your head in disbelief once more.

“But I don’t… where have I been? I wasn’t in Heaven. Or Hell. I can’t remember…” You trail off, staring down at the floor in front of you.

He laughs, and your eyes snap up to look at him.

“Yeah, see, that’s the best part.” He says. “You weren’t in either. Or, anywhere, for that matter. Those Winchester boys – bless their sweet, sweet hearts – they didn’t burn your corpse like they usually do when their friends die. Poor Dean must have just been too broken-hearted to bring himself to do that.”

Your heart aches at his words, but you just let him go on.

“So, they buried you instead. And you hunters know – if you don’t burn the corpse, you risk the soul staying behind. And you being the ever-tenacious thing you are, must have held on. There must have been something, some connection you had to this world that was so strong, you couldn’t let go. What ever could that connection be, I wonder?” He mocks, clearly very aware of your relationship with Dean.

“See, it was tricky, I can’t lie. I didn’t quite know exactly where they buried you. And, it took a little while for me to find your soul hovering around out there in the veil,” He goes on, “But once I did, I was able to just pluck it right out, pop it right back into your meat suit - wherever it was - and then I snap my fingers and bam, here you are. Alive and in the flesh. Perks of being an all-powerful archangel. Again, you’re welcome.” He grins cockily.

You just stare at him for a little while, taking it all in. As strange as it all is… it all makes sense. Well, almost all of it.

“Still doesn’t explain why you did it.” You breathe, looking at him with furrowed brows. He opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.

“Don’t.” You say. “Don’t give me that ‘I was just curious’ crap again. If you actually are as impressed by me as you say, then don’t disrespect me by acting like I’m dumb enough to believe that. Why’d you really bring me back?”

He pauses, looking almost shocked at your bluntness toward him.

“You’re the one who said you have no reason to lie, right?” You ask, eyebrows raised. “So let’s hear the truth.”

His look of surprise transforms into one of intrigue, and he smiles once more.

“I definitely do get it.” He chuckles. “Why everyone is so entranced by you. You are… feisty.”

You just narrow your eyes at him, wondering whether or not he’s going to answer your question.

“Fine.” He says. “The curiosity part – that’s true. But there is just a bit more. I want… I want for us to be friends, Y/N.”

You just look at him for a few seconds before scoffing.

“Friends? You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Truly, Y/N, I’m… I’m not a bad guy.” He says, almost sadly.

“Yeah? That’s not what I’ve heard.” You retort.

“From who? The Winchesters?” There’s a venom in his voice when he says their name, and it suddenly reminds you of all the things he’s done to them. All the things the boys told you about, all the ways he tortured Sam in the pit. Suddenly, a rage begins to bubble in your chest and you have to hold your composure so as not to show that same rage in your eyes.

“Who cares what they told you?” He says, frustrated. “They let you die. To save them. That’s how all their friends go, you know. You’re just another casualty of the unceasingly fatal Winchester duo.”

You feel your rage building the more he talks about them, but you let him continue.

“Honestly, it’s just a shame. That you died for them, I mean. Don’t get me wrong, Sammy will always… hold a special place in my heart. But you, you’re clearly special, Y/N. What a pity you still chose to sacrifice yourself for them.”

This time, you actually do roll your eyes.

“Such bullshit.” You mumble.

He raises his eyebrows, but you just go on, your annoyance outweighing any fear you should be feeling.

“You angels and demons, always deciding which of us humans are interesting enough to fit into your ridiculous narratives. It’s fucking exhausting. You throw your weight around and decide which humans matter and which don’t as if that’s actually up to you at all.” You glare at him as you say it, and he looks actually speechless.

“You think you’re special just because you’ve got wings and an ego.” You spit.

He stares at you, his eyes wide. You suddenly realize what you said, and a fear begins to grow in your chest, but you just stare back. Slowly, he begins to narrow his eyes and for a few seconds you’re certain he’s going to send you right back underground.

To your surprise, he smiles once more.

“You…” He chuckles, pointing a finger at you once more. “You are brave. Tough chick. But, then I guess you kinda had to be, didn’t you?”

Your stomach sinks at his implication.

“With everything Alastair did to you.” His eyes darken slightly as he says it.

You don’t know why it catches you off guard when he says it, but it does. You’d be stupid to think he wouldn’t know all about that, with all the demons at his disposal.

“And… with everything your stepfather did. Oof.” He clutches his chest as he says it, as if it hurts him to know what happened to you.

Your stomach sinks even further, but you know he’s saying these things because he’s trying to crack your tough exterior, and for that reason alone you refuse to let him.

“Yeah, well, we all have daddy issues, don’t we?” You mock with a smirk.

You see the rage flash across his eyes once more, but it’s once again replaced quickly with a smile.

“Y/N…” He coos, “We don’t need to be at odds like this. We have so much in common, really. The daddy issues, my own dad’s special interest in the both of us, I mean… even our sharp wits.” He grins.

You just watch him as he casually paces back and forth only a few feet in front of you.

“You and I, we’d make a great team.” He goes on. “All I’m asking is for you to give me a chance. You know, be by my side, be my friend, tell me where the Winchesters are, share inside jokes with me-"

“Hold up, what did you just say?” You interrupt.

“Share inside jokes with me?” He repeats with a smirk. “I bet you and I would have some real doozies.”

You narrow your eyes. “No. Not that. You need me… to tell you where the Winchesters are?”

He doesn’t respond, his eyes just bore into yours.

“You don’t know where they are?” You ask. As hard as you try to fight it, a small smile forms on your lips.

You see the frustration on his face as he takes a deep breath to answer you.

“Wherever they are… it’s warded against me and all of my demons.”

You grin. “You’re damn right it is.”

He glares at you, but he goes on.

“Of course, when you were there, it was easy for my demons to find the place. You were the seal to my cage. A great, big, cosmic beacon of light for them to go after. But now… now you’re not there. And since I’m out, you’re no longer the seal.”

“No more great, big, beacon of light.” You say. “Which is why you couldn’t find where my body was buried.”

He nods at you. “Beauty and brains. Yes, exactly. And the only demons who DID know where their little hideout was-"

“Are dead.” You grin, remembering the trap you set for all those demons who had been trying to break you and free Lucifer.

“Yeah, thanks for that, by the way.” He says, annoyed. “I heard all about your epic trap. Took them all out in one foul swoop, huh? Pretty bad ass.”

“Thought you’d be a little more pissed off about it, honestly.” You say.

“Pissed? Please. I’m impressed. You’re very impressive, you know.” He answers condescendingly.

"I'm honored to receive your praise." You respond sarcastically, eliciting another laugh from him.

"Anyway, no, I'm not mad. Demons are expendable. There are plenty more where those came from. But,” He sighs dramatically, “Now I just can’t seem to locate the Winchesters’ little home base. Truly, I’m just distraught about it. You have no idea how much I’ve missed them.”

You stare back at him blankly, unimpressed by the wit he is clearly so proud of.

“But,” He goes on, “I figured - hey, I brought you back, we’ve bonded, you and I are buddies now, so you can just… let me know where they are.”

All you can feel is a rush of relief, knowing he has absolutely no idea where the bunker is. And if you’re his last hope, that means he’s never going to find out. Because you’re sure as Hell not going to tell him.

A grin spreads across your face and you chuckle slightly.

“Yeah, uh… I truly hate to tarnish this shiny new friendship of ours, but that’s never gonna happen.” You state.

He looks frustrated, but determined.

“Come ON, Y/N! I mean you literally died for them already! What more do you owe them?”

You just continue smiling smugly at his pointless attempt to persuade you.

“I would die for them a million more times.” You say confidently. “And I will die for them a million more times before I’ll tell you a god damn thing.”

He takes a step toward you, faking a smile to mask his growing irritation.

“Think of the things I could offer you if you help me. You’re a smart girl. If you stick by my side, you could have anything you want.”

You laugh, and he raises his eyebrows, offended.

“You could offer me the whole world on a silver platter,” You lean towards him and whisper with a smirk, “And I’d still choose the Winchesters.”

You watch the frustration begin to take over again.

And this time, he snaps.

The anger overwhelms his features as his lips curl into a snarl. He begins to walk toward you and you shuffle backwards quickly, until you feel your back collide with the cold cement wall behind you. His eyes light up bright red and he continues to move forward until his face is only inches from yours.

Your mouth goes dry and you feel your heart pounding in your chest. As hard as you try to maintain your composure, you feel yourself trembling. Because the truth is - no matter how tough you are - the Devil is fucking scary.

“I’ve let you disrespect me one too many times now, Y/N. You’re quick. And you’re witty. And I like that. But I can’t just let people go around disrespecting me all willy-nilly, can I? I let it go for a little while, because I didn’t want to have to do it this way. I really do like you, Y/N. I’ve tried to make you feel comfortable.”

You smirk, gazing around the small, dark room. Every fiber of your being tells you not to, but you do it anyway. You can’t help yourself.

“You call this comfortable?” You quip.

His hand flies up and grabs you by the throat as he narrows his eyes even further. He doesn’t squeeze, but he holds you firmly in place, asserting his dominance without actually inflicting any pain yet.

“That damn attitude.” He growls. “No wonder you and the Winchesters get along so well. I think might be even worse than they are. You’re one of those reckless, nothing-left-to-lose types, aren’t ya?”

You swallow hard, but still smile shakily.

“It’s been said.” You whisper.

“Well, don’t forget where you are or who you’re with.” He murmurs. “You’re not going anywhere. And if I have to do this the hard way, I will.”

“There’s nothing you can do to me that hasn’t already been done.” You breathe, even though you aren’t entirely sure that’s true.

Suddenly, his features relax slightly and he lets go of your throat.

“Please, Y/N, I’m not Alastair. I’m not a monster. There are certain things he did and things he let his demons do that I would never do to you. Not ever.” He looks at you as if he’s trying to reassure you, once again displaying his manipulative charm.

Then, he leans even closer to you and lowers his voice to a whisper.

“But that doesn’t mean I can’t still make you suffer… unimaginably.”

You clench your jaw, refusing to let him see the tremble of your body.

He leans back once more before finally backing away from you and strolling toward the door casually.

“Maybe I’ll send a few demons in here first to loosen you up, give you a chance to change your mind about telling me what I want to know.” He says as he grabs the door handle and begins to turn it. Then, he pauses, turning to look at you.

“But if you don’t, I’ll come in here and change your mind myself. I really, really need you to understand something, Y/N. The powers I have, they’ll let me get inside that wonderfully hard head of yours… and torture you in ways that Alastair could never even have dreamed.”

You swallow hard once more, the ice of his words sending a terrifying chill up your spine.

“One way or another,” He looks deep into your eyes, “you’re going to tell me where they are.”

“No,” You say confidently looking right back into his eyes, “I won’t.”

He grins. “Love that tenacity, kiddo. We’ll just see about that.”

With that, he turns the handle and walks out the door, slamming it closed and locking it behind him. You let out the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding in, and look around the room as the reality of your situation crashes down on you.

You’re trapped, completely alone, with the Devil himself. And the only people in the whole world who could come save you, think you’re dead.

Great.

Welcome back to the land of the living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoyed. I missed writing her. I'm pretty glad she's back.
> 
> Thank you SO much for reading, as always.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Cass go after Metatron, and the reader continues to face off against Lucifer as his prisoner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi.
> 
> Alright, so here's the deal.
> 
> Something came over me the past few days and I have been physically unable to stop writing. So I am about to hit you guys with a few chapters right now.
> 
> I hope that's okay.
> 
> There's gonna be a lot going on for all of our beloved characters, all at once. I hope that's okay, too.
> 
> I love you all. But you already know that. Please, enjoy.

After a long drive, Castiel and Sam finally arrive in Pennsylvania. Exhausted, they pull up to a motel and drag their bags inside.

“How do the angels even know Metatron’s here for sure?” Sam asks.

“There have been many angels on the ground since he escaped.” Cass explains. “Right now, he’s Heaven’s most wanted felon. There have been a few sightings of him reported in this area. But only a select few angels have been given clearance to actually engage with him and take him prisoner. He’s believed to be in this town, but no one is exactly sure where.”

“Great,” Sam sighs, sitting down on the bed, “So where do we even start?”

Just then, Cass’ phone rings. He furrows his brows as he looks down at the unfamiliar number, and answers it hesitantly.

“…Hello?”

His face instantly goes from one of confusion to one of anger.

“Metatron.” He seethes.

Sam’s eyes go wide and he jumps up from the bed, watching Cass intently.

Cass listens to the other end of the phone silently for a few seconds before he speaks up again.

“And why would you do that?” He demands.

Sam continues looking on in confusion, and Cass is once again listening.

“You better not be lying to me, Metatron.” Cass growls, before hanging up the phone.

His eyes connect with Sam’s, and Sam looks on in anticipation.

“He… said he wants to turn himself over to us.” Cass states.

Sam scoffs in disbelief.

“Yeah, right. Why?”

“He says he knows the angels are closing in on him. And he also knows we are here. And that he would rather us come get him than the angels. He said he’d rather be our prisoner than Heaven’s.”

“Cass, how did he even still have your number?” Sam asks.

“I don’t change my phone number very often.” Cass states flatly. Sam just eyes him and he follows up with, “I want to make sure that you and Dean always have my number. Just in case.”

Sam chuckles at that before asking, “So, how do we know Metatron is telling the truth?”

“We don’t.” Cass answers. “But, what choice do we have?”

Sam clenches his jaw and nods, agreeing that there really is no choice at all.

“Well, guess we didn’t need the motel room after all.” Sam says.

Less than an hour later, they’re pulling up to the address that Metatron gave Castiel.

Sam rolls his eyes when he realizes where they are.

“A bookstore? Seriously? Figures he would be hiding out here.”

“Seems like they are closed for the night.” Cass says, as the two of them head into the building, armed and on high alert.

They walk in to see Metatron sitting at a small table in the center of the building, casually reading a book. They walk a few feet further in, and that’s when he looks up from his book and notices them.

“Ah, gentlemen! It’s great to see you.” He exclaims with a grin.

They both just glare at him, angel blades in hand.

“Oh, don’t worry. No tricks.” He says, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “As I said on the phone, I’m realizing my options are limited and I’ve been surrounded. But, I’d rather be trapped with you boys than trapped up there in Heaven again. The angels are just BORING.” He glances at Cass as he says this.

“Oh, no offense, Castiel. But, but – truly – I’d rather at least be prisoner to someone who is a little more fun. Like the Winchesters!” His eyes flick to Sam as he smiles. “And, how is Dean, by the way?”

Sam growls and takes a step toward Metatron, lifting his blade, but Cass reaches a gentle hand out and stops him. Cass and Sam exchange knowing looks and Sam relaxes slightly.

“We know you must be planning something.” Cass says, narrowing his eyes at Metatron. “But right now we don’t have the time to care. You’re coming with us.”

With that, he pulls a pair of Enochian cuffs from his jacket pocket.

Metatron just continues smiling as he stands up and extends his wrists obediently. Sam and Cass briefly exchange confused glances, but quickly step toward Metatron. Cass hurriedly snaps the cuffs on his wrists, and he just looks up at them smugly.

“I told you. No tricks. Shall we, boys?”

They both just glare down at him before looking at each other and grabbing him, walking him out of the building. They rush out to the car and shove him in the back seat before climbing in the front themselves.

They exchange concerned glances once more as Sam throws the car into reverse and begins the long drive back to the bunker. They know that this is too easy, and that he must have something up his sleeve. But right now, the most important thing is getting out of there before any angels show up.

“Damn,” You chuckle breathlessly, “I really would have thought Lucifer’s right hand guys would have stronger right hooks.”

Another fist flies out and connects with your cheek, snapping your head to the side and blurring your vision.

It’s been a full day of this now. You’re still in the same small room, your wrists shackled above your head, your head pounding, and your stomach aching with the familiar feeling of broken ribs. Lucifer’s demons have been kicking your ass, to put it simply.

There are a few deep cuts along your chest and stomach, your cheeks are swollen and bruised, and at least a couple of your ribs are broken.

It sucks, but it’s no worse than anything you’ve experienced before. And it’s sure as Hell not enough to get you to give up your boys. In fact, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t having just a little fun mocking these demons every time they touch you.

“What are you, like his second string demons?” You laugh as you turn your head back to face the two standing in front of you right now. “When is he gonna send in his starters?”

You see the anger and frustration on their faces as one reels back and brings his fist forward into your abdomen. You gasp out at the loss of air and the gasp resolves into coughing as you struggle to force air back into your lungs. Despite the pain, you laugh through the coughs and glare at them with a cocky smile.

The punches hurt, but they’re nothing compared to the pain of missing the boys. Whenever you close your eyes, you see their faces. You think about how long you’ve truly been away from them. You worry about what lengths they may go to, or have gone to, to try and bring you back.

And even more than that, you’re worried about how they’ve been coping without you.

You’re worried about how Dean’s been coping without you.

You know how hard it was for you without him. And even then, he may have been a demon, but you at least knew he was alive. He’s spent four months without you. Four months of you completely gone. Four months of you dead.

Even though you’re the one strung up for Lucifer and his demons, Dean is the one you’re worried about.

And no matter how hopeless your current situation seems, all you can focus on is him. And getting back to him. You’re not sure how. But somehow, some way, you will get back to those boys. Because despite the screaming pain in your shoulders and the blood running down your chest, you’re still certain of one thing.

Not even the Devil himself can stop you from reuniting with your man.

One of the demons picks up a blade and brings it down on your collarbone, slicing a few inches along the bone. You wince slightly, but give them no more reaction than that. You look between the two of them and laugh again.

“So,” You breathe. “Which one of you two does the Devil’s laundry, and which one makes his bed every morning?”

You laugh again at your own joke, and they both just snarl in annoyance.

One punches you in the mouth once more, and you feel your lip split.

“We’ll see how much you’ll be laughing when the boss comes back in here.” The same demon says as he walks out of the room. You just shake your head and blink, trying to remain fully conscious.

A moment later, the demon comes back in the room. With Lucifer behind him.

Lucifer walks up to you and studies you up and down, and you glare daggers back at him. Slowly, he furrows his brows, his bottom lip forms a pout, and he places his hand over his heart.

“Ouch.” He says dramatically, still looking you up and down. “That looks like it all smarts.”

“No, honestly,” You spit out blood right at his feet, “The guys and I are having a great time.” You smirk.

He grins back.

“How about…” He begins to circle you casually. “I give you another chance? Huh?”

You just exhale sharply, but don’t respond.

“C’mon, Y/N.” He croons from behind you, laying the charm on thick. “You don’t want these demons to keep wailing on you like this. And I don’t want that for you, either.”  
You roll your eyes, and you’re pretty sure he sees it as he comes around your other side and back in front of you.

“Where are the Winchesters?” He asks with a smile.

“Who?” You respond with a smug grin.

His smile fades and his eyes narrow. You watch him as he stares at you intently, studying your face as if he is trying to figure you out and understand you better. He looks at you almost as if he’s threatened by you.

“Fine. We’ll get back to that.” He says. “How about you tell me about you, huh? For instance, when you found out that Dad made you the seal to my cage… did you find anything else out? Like… maybe why he did it? And how?”

You look at him, confused by this sudden line of questioning. Your confusion quickly fades though, and you’re once again smirking at him.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, maintaining a casual demeanor. A demeanor that you’re beginning to see right through.

“Y’know, at first I believed you that you just wanted to learn more about me and just wanted me for information,” You start, looking deep into his eyes, “But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t answer you, but narrows his eyes just a little further, waiting for you to go on.

“You’re scared of me, aren’t you?” You ask.

He stares at you for a few more seconds before chuckling and waving a finger at you.

“Oh, you. You are funny.” He laughs.

You just keep looking at him, that same knowing smile on your bruised face.

He gestures at you and your current position. “Look at you. What exactly do I have to be afraid of?”

“You’re scared,” You say quietly, “That if you kill me, or if you had left me dead in the first place, then your daddy might just bring me back himself. Since he’s taken such a particular interest in me and all.”

He doesn’t answer, but his smile quickly disappears. You raise an eyebrow at him as you go on, “You’re scared that if I’m not right here, in your sight, then he might just take me right back and use me to keep you locked up in that box all over again.”

You see the rage all over his face, and you just keep smiling at him, despite how terrifying his features have become. As scary as he is, there’s also a weakness, an insecurity, behind his eyes that you’re seeing for the first time.

You’re waiting for him to scream at you, or hit you, or snap his fingers and rip you to pieces, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just grins again.

“You are something else, Y/N. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“All the time.” You smirk.

“I think we really could’ve gotten along in different circumstances.” He states as he walks back to the door. He opens it, but before exiting he looks at his demons, nodding silently for them to continue.

He looks at you once more.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back.” With that, he leaves the room and the two demons grin as they walk back toward you.


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What lengths will Dean go to, the longer he goes without the reader?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one for ya.
> 
> Told you, I've got a few lined up, because I just can't stop.

Dean gasps as he shoots up in bed, waking up from yet another nightmare of you. He’s covered in a sheen of sweat, his eyes are red and bloodshot, and he’s breathing heavily.

But this time, the nightmare was different. This time, he didn’t see himself stabbing you in the chest. He saw you being tortured. Hanging from the ceiling, taking the kind of beating that only you can take, and smart mouthing your captors like always.

He doesn’t know why he has this dream. It’s fuzzy and random and doesn’t make any sense. But yet, it felt so real. For a few brief moments, it felt almost as if it was really you. Almost as if… you were still alive.

No.

He needs to stop. He shouldn’t tease himself like that. He knows it can’t be true. He only wishes it were. He’s just so pathetic, so desperate to have you in his arms again, that he’s starting to lose his mind completely.

He reaches down next to his bed, his knuckles knocking over a number of empty whiskey bottles. He picks up the most recent one, and furrows his brows in frustration when he holds it in front of his groggy eyes and realizes it’s empty.

He groans out as he drags himself out of bed and stumbles down the hall down to the kitchen, searching the fridge and pantry for any remaining bottles. Eventually, he finds one, and just as he’s pulling it out of the cupboard, he hears a familiar British voice sound from behind him.

“Well, you certainly look like Hell.”

Dean turns around and looks at Crowley, but doesn’t say anything to him.

“Long time no see, Squirrel. Aren’t you going to tell me how much you’ve missed me? You must think about me sometimes. About our time in the sun.”

Dean just glares at Crowley before taking a sip of his whiskey and walking right past him. Crowley watches him, almost surprised, as he begins to notice how truly broken Dean is. He follows Dean down the hall to his room, and watches as he just flops down on his bed.

“I am… truly heartbroken about the loss of Y/N.” Crowley utters.

Dean tenses slightly at the sound of your name, but simply stares forward as he sips his drink.

“You know I always admired her.” Crowley says.

“Yup.” Dean says, wincing at the burn of the whiskey as it goes down. “Me too.”

Crowley just stares at Dean for a few seconds.

“Well, aren’t you going to blame me for her death? Or for not coming as soon as she died? Or at the very least demand to know what I’m doing here now?” Crowley asks.

“Nope.” Dean responds.

“For all you know, I could be here to kill you.” Crowley reasons.

Dean turns to look at him.

“Go for it.”

Crowley looks back, almost sadly, for a few seconds.

“You truly are a shell of the Dean I once knew.”

Dean just faces forward once more, sipping his whiskey.

“Well,” Crowley goes on, “I am here to let you know that you and your brother are not safe. Lucifer’s finally popped his bloody head out of the sand. And he’s coming after you both. And after me. Hence, why I have been lying low for so long.”

Dean just raises his eyebrows and scoffs, completely unaffected by the idea of being Lucifer’s target.

“Where is Moose?” Crowley asks.

“Not here.” Dean answers.

Crowley glares at Dean in annoyance.

“Well, where is he?”

Dean takes another sip.

“Off with Cass somewhere. Looking for Metatron. Don’t even know where.”

Crowley raises his eyebrows.

“They went after the bloody angel that KILLED you, and you didn’t want to go with them?”

“Nope.” He sips once more.

“Why the Hell not?!” Crowley demands.

Dean’s tired eyes look at Crowley again.

“Because I don’t give a shit. About any of it.”

Crowley understands what Dean means by that, and just nods once.

“Well, you should at least call them and tell them to be aware. Watch their backs.”

“Got it.” Dean says, sipping once more. “Beware the Devil. Anything else?”

“Yes.” Crowley states, taking a step closer to Dean. “I think I have an idea. A way to bring her back.”

Dean’s eyes immediately snap to Crowley’s face.

“You’re lying.” He croaks.

“No, I’m not.” Crowley answers. “Will you truly give anything to bring her back?”

“You know I will.” Dean rasps, sitting up slightly.

“Like your soul?” Crowley questions.

Dean scoffs and leans back against the headboard once more, taking another sip.

“You think I haven’t tried that?”

“I know you have.” Crowley says. “But not with me there.”

Dean looks at Crowley again, furrowing his brows.

“Lucifer may be back, but I’m still the King of Hell.” Crowley explains. “For now, anyway. If you truly wish to sell your soul, I could accompany you to the crossroads and make sure that you receive a deal. I can’t guarantee how good of a deal, but a deal nonetheless.”

Dean looks at him, slack-jawed, before slowly sitting up once more.

“Why would you do that? Things didn’t end so well between us. Wouldn’t expect you to want to help me with anything.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be doing it for you. I’d be doing it for her. I am the one who sent her after dear Demon Dean in the first place.”

Dean clenches his jaw hearing about himself as a demon, but realizes Crowley is just one more person who blames themselves for your death. And because of that, he believes him. He stands quickly, throwing his jacket on.

“Let’s go.” He commands.

Crowley hesitates slightly.

“Don’t you want to call Bullwinkle? At least let him know what you’re doing?”

Dean just glares at Crowley, his face serious and determined. The intensity in his stare is enough to shut Crowley up, and they head up to the garage, where Dean fires up the Impala and flies down the road to the nearest Crossroads.

Together, they bury the box in the dirt and summon the demon. After what feels like forever, she finally appears. She glances between Dean and Crowley and raises her eyebrows, smirking at them both.

“Well, look at this. The dynamic duo, reunited. Are you already a demon again, Dean?” She asks playfully.

He clenches his jaw and glares at her. “You know why I’m here.”

“I do,” She says, walking toward him, “But you were already turned down for a deal, pretty boy.”

“That was before. I’m here now.” Crowley says confidently. “And as your King, I demand you grant him this deal.”

The demon looks between them, wide-eyed, for a few seconds. Then, the smile creeps back across her face as she begins laughing.

Crowley and Dean look at each other, confused, before looking back at the demon.

“You WERE my King.” She sneers at Crowley. “But now, the big guy is back. Our REAL lord. Lucifer.”

Dean closes his eyes in annoyance before opening them and turning to look at Crowley.

“Oh yeah, you’re definitely still the King.” He whispers sarcastically.

“And Lucifer is looking for you.” She says, still looking at Crowley. Then, her black eyes flick to Dean. “Both of you. And he is going to be so happy with me for delivering you both on a silver platter.” She says with a grin.

“You?” Dean scoffs. “Yeah, I may be rusty. But I ain’t that rusty.” He states, pulling the demon blade from his back pocket.

“Oh no, not just me.” She answers. “I called for back up the second I realized it was you two summoning me.”

Suddenly, five other demons appear, slowly beginning to surround Crowley and Dean. They look around in surprise and concern. Then, they exchange panicked looks as they realize how outnumbered they are.

“Lucifer has some special things planned for you two.” The crossroads demon coos. “Especially you, Crowley.”

Crowley swallows hard and looks at Dean, wide-eyed.

“Don’t you dare.” Dean mutters.

Crowley shrugs slightly and furrows his brows in guilt.

“So sorry.” He whispers to Dean. Then, he leans his head back and Dean watches as red smoke billows out of his mouth and into the sky.

Dean clenches his jaw and shakes his head, annoyed but not at all surprised. He then turns his attention back to the demons now completely surrounding him. He narrows his eyes as he looks around at them. He reaches into his jacket once more, pulling out an angel blade, now armed in both hands.

“Bring it on, you black-eyed dicks.” He growls.

With that, they all lunge at him at once. He slashes and punches, ducking as many blows as he possibly can, and takes out a couple of them with the knife. Despite that, he’s completely outnumbered and easily overpowered. The remaining demons knock him roughly to the ground, and continue to punch and kick him as he tries fruitlessly to protect himself from the blows. After a few more solid hits, he feels his consciousness fading. And the worst part is, he isn’t really sure that he cares at all.

Sam and Cass arrive back at the bunker with Metatron, dragging him down the stars and through the library.

“Dean, we’re back!” Sam bellows. “Dean?”

He doesn’t get a response, but he honestly wasn’t expecting one. He knows Dean is probably passed out drunk in his bed. He and Cass bring Metatron into the dungeon, and Metatron groans in frustration.

“Is this really necessary?” Metatron whines. “I did come along willingly!”

Sam sits him roughly in the chair and stares into his eyes.

“Yes, it is.” He growls. “And this is a damn presidential suite compared to what you deserve.”

With that, he and Cass chain Metatron down tightly before stepping back to look at him.

“I know why you were looking for me.” Metatron says with a smile.

“Because you killed my brother and you’re gonna pay for it?” Sam asks with his best bitch face.

“Well, there is that.” Metatron says, his smile fading slightly. “But it isn’t just that.”

The two of them narrow their eyes at him as he goes on.

“Poor, poor, dear, Y/N.” He sighs dramatically. “I did hear about your loss.”

Their eyes both darken even further and they tense up.

“Now, I never got to meet her myself, but I did write plenty about her when God created her prophecy. I heard she was quite special. So sad.”

He pouts up at them and they tense up even further. It takes all Sam has not to punch him right in the face.

“And now…” Metatron continues, “Well, now you want to know if there’s any way to bring her back.”

He grins up at them once more, and Sam clenches his jaw and his fists.

“Well, is there?” Sam asks.

Metatron continues smiling as he looks between the two of them.

“I have an idea.” He says. “How about you two go grab Dean? That way, we can all be together to discuss my… terms.”

“Terms?” Cass grumbles.

“Uh, yes, well, I may have some useful information about bringing your lovely friend back from the dead. But, it wouldn’t be fair for me give that out without getting something in return. You know, like a new identity, maybe a place to hide out from all those angels that are after me…”

Sam scoffs. “You’ve gotta be kidding. You really think we would EVER help you with any of that, after everything you’ve done?”

“I admit, I’ve been… a bit impish.” Metatron mutters, pulling an eyeroll from both Sam and Cass.

“But, I’d bet if you ask Dean, he’d be willing to do just about anything to get your dear Y/N back.” He grins at them once more. “Even for me.”

Sam and Cass exchange quick looks, their jaws clenched, knowing that he’s probably right.

“So, how about you go get him? Hmm? And then we can all chat together. Plus, I’ve missed him a great deal. Can’t wait to catch up.” Metatron says confidently.

They narrow their eyes at him once more before once again exchanging looks.

“Keep an eye on him.” Sam says, frustrated. “I’ll get him.”

With that, he storms out of the dungeon and down the hall to Dean’s door. He knocks gently on the door, calling out his brother’s name.

“Dean?” He knocks once more, but doesn’t get a response. He sighs, and opens the door himself, expecting to see his brother on his bed with a bottle in his hand.

Instead, he sees the bed empty, and glances around the room to find it empty as well. He furrows his brows in confusion before heading down the hall to the showers, only to find them empty, too. His concern begins to grow as he heads to the kitchen, thinking maybe Dean went in there to grab another bottle. But once again, he finds nothing.

“Cass!” He shouts.

Within a few seconds, Cass is in the kitchen.

“What is it?” He asks, looking around.

“Dean.” Sam breathes, his concerned eyes looking at Cass. “He’s… gone.”

Cass furrows his brows as he looks at Sam.

“Where… where could he have gone?” Cass asks, the fear apparent in his tone.

Suddenly, a British accent sounds in the doorway behind them.

“I may have some idea about that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I cannot STAND Metatron.
> 
> But I like to make myself suffer, so I'm adding him in here anyway.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's going to happen to Dean now that the demons have captured him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaand another one.
> 
> Hope you're enjoying!

“Where are the Winchesters?!” The demon demands as he grips your face tightly, forcing you to look at him.

“Up… your… ass.” You croak with a smile.

He growls and releases your face before hitting you once more.

It’s been at least a few days of this at this point. The same thing, over and over. The demons come in, rough you up, ask you the question they will never get an answer to, and leave you alone until the next round of questioning. If your body didn’t ache so damn bad, you’d say you were getting bored.

“Where are they?!” He demands again.

“Seriously…” You groan, “Are you having trouble hearing me… or are you just stupid?” You glare at him. “They are… all the way… up your ass.”

You close your eyes, waiting for the next blow. But it doesn’t come. You instead open your eyes to see the demons in the room glance at each other, before walking toward the door.

“Yeah, that’s right.” You chuckle breathlessly to yourself. “You better run!”

When the door closes behind them, you let out a deep breath. You look up and try to adjust your wrists in the shackles above you, attempting to relieve some of the immense pressure on your aching shoulders. Everything hurts, and you don’t care. Every second, your mind is going through every possible escape option. But these god damn shackles are a road block in every single one. Not to mention the locked door, the many demons, and the Devil.

You think about Dean again. You think about his calloused hands caressing your face. You think about his soft lips brushing against yours. You think about his shoulders and arms wrapping around you and holding you tight. You close your eyes and picture those bright green eyes staring back into yours, and you feel your heart begin to race.

Just then, you hear the door open and your eyes snap open as well. You see Lucifer coming in, alone, a grin plastered on his face. You just glare at him as he locks the door behind him and takes a step toward you.

“How are you feeling?” He asks it in a way that makes it seem like he actually cares about the answer.

“Peachy.” You sneer.

“You’re not being very cooperative, from what I hear.” He scolds.

You scoff. “If you knew me, you’d know why you shouldn’t be surprised by that.”

“Well,” He says, “The good news is that it doesn’t really matter. Because I can make you cooperate myself.”

You can tell he’s trying to scare you. And honestly, it’s working. But it doesn’t matter. Because scared or not, you’re not telling him anything. You lean forward as much as you can and narrow your eyes at him.

“Then quit holding out on me, Almighty Satan.” You mock in a whisper.

You see the anger flood his eyes as he takes a step back from you.

“Remember, Y/N. I didn’t want this.” He states coldly. “You made me do this.”

With that, his enraged eyes begin to glow red, and your heart leaps into your throat. You watch him lift his hand in the air, slowly squeezing it into a fist. You tense up and squeeze your eyes closed, preparing yourself for a pain that you know you can never truly be prepared for.

You stay this way for a few very long seconds, waiting for this unimaginable suffering, but it doesn’t come. Slowly, you open your eyes to see him staring at you, wide-eyed, his fist unclenching slightly.

Suddenly, he doubles down, squeezing his fist event tighter and clenching his jaw, his bright red eyes boring into you. But again, you feel nothing – and he can tell. He drops his fist to his side as he goes slack-jawed, and he stares at you with wide, shocked eyes.

And that’s when it dawns on you.

It didn’t work.

His powers didn’t work… on you.

You stare back at him, just as shocked, wondering how that could even be possible.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door that startles the both of you. Lucifer stares at you for a few more seconds, looking completely shaken, before turning to open the door. A demon walks in and begins whispering into Lucifer’s ear. As he listens, his insecure expression melts away and a smile creeps across his face.

He continues smiling as he walks up to you once more.

“Guess what?” He muses.

You just glare at him.

“No, come on, come on! I want you to guess.” He exclaims happily.

You narrow your eyes at him. “You want to apologize for being such a dick?” You ask with a smirk.

He chuckles. “No. Better. So much better. We have company.”

You furrow your brows, wondering with a concerned curiosity what he might mean.

“The one and only Dean Winchester has gotten himself kidnapped by demons.” He states with a massive grin.

Your heart sinks into your stomach.

“You’re lying.” You whisper.

He just continues smiling as he holds out his hand, and the demon behind him pulls out a knife and places it in Lucifer’s hand. Lucifer drops it down dramatically next to you, onto the table of tools the demons have been using to torture you. When you look at it more closely, your stomach drops even further.

The demon blade.

Then, the demon hands him Dean’s angel blade as well, and he drops that down right next to the demon blade.

You swallow hard as you drag your eyes from the blades back up to Lucifer’s face.

“All that talking back, all that holding out, all that suffering… all of it was for nothing.” He hums, leaning closer to you. “Because we got him anyway.”

“Where is he?” You demand.

“Just down the hall. So close yet so, so far.” Lucifer is beaming as he says it. “And he still thinks you’re dead. And it’s gonna stay that way. Because I bet he is just delightfully depressed right now. And I gotta see it.” He finishes with a taunting smirk, and your chest begins to bubble with a blend of anger and fear.

“Don’t.” You grit out through a clenched jaw, even though you know it’s useless.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll be back.” He says as he heads toward the door. “Just gonna pay the boyfriend a quick visit.” With that, he winks at you and heads out the door, his demon following behind him, and they slam the door and lock it behind them.

Your Y/E/C eyes bounce around the room in a panic as you try to collect your thoughts. So many emotions are overwhelming you that you don’t even know where to begin.

First, there’s just the slightest bit of relief. He said Dean. Not Sam and Dean.

At least Sammy is still safe. For now.

But then, you’re overcome with concern knowing that the man you love is being tortured, probably right this second.

And yet, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the slightest bit of excitement at the idea that he’s so close to you right now.

All you need to do is get to him.

And finally, there’s the fact that the all-powerful Devil just tried and failed to torture you. His powers didn’t work on you. You have no idea why, but all you can think about right now is how you can use that to your advantage to get you and Dean the Hell out of here.

He’s only half conscious as he feels himself being dragged into the center of a room. His jacket and flannel are yanked off, his hands are forced above him, and he faintly hears the clicking of shackles closing around his wrists. His head bobs as he hangs from the ceiling, his boots just hardly brushing the concrete floor below him. He feels the bruises forming on his aching face and ribs from the beating the demons dished out before bringing him here. He’s sweating through his gray t-shirt, a cut on his forehead is bleeding down into his right eye, and he tastes the iron of his blood from a split lip. He’s vaguely aware of the couple demons standing around him and of the door in front of him opening as someone walks in and closes it behind them. He blinks slowly, but he’s quickly dragged fully into consciousness when he finally hears the voice of the figure in front of him.

“Dean, dean, dean. My second favorite Winchester.”

He lifts his head and his green eyes snap up to meet Lucifer’s. His lips quiver in hatred and his stare is icy.

“You look like shit, old buddy.” Lucifer says with a smile.

“Go to Hell.” Dean spits.

Lucifer’s face resolves into a look of disappointment.

“That’s it? Not very creative, Dean.”

“Well, what can I say,” Dean huffs through a wince, “I haven’t been in a very creative mood lately.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve heard alllllll about that.” Lucifer says, taking a step closer to him. “I can’t believe you murdered your girlfriend. Yikes.” He cringes and shrugs as he says it. “You couldn’t have tried couples counseling first?”

At that, Dean growls and yanks roughly at his chains.

“Shut the fuck up.” He grits.

Lucifer just laughs.

“Oh, come on, man! You know I’m only kidding. I thought we were friends! I can’t joke around with you?” He asks, as if he’s offended.

Dean just continues glaring at him.

“Listen, you arrogant dick.” Dean mutters. “If you’re gonna kill me, or torture me, could you just get on with it? Because I really don’t have the god damn energy to listen to your bullshit.”

“Aw, Dean.” Lucifer says, pouting once more. “You really are messed up without her, aren’t ya?”

Dean doesn’t even bother to answer, he just clenches his jaw as he stares at Lucifer.

“Well, fine. You want torture, you got torture, big guy.” Lucifer says as he begins to walk toward the door.

“Oh!” He exclaims, turning back toward Dean. “Just for shits and giggles, you wouldn’t happen to wanna tell me where little old Sammy is, would ya?”

Dean just exhales sharply and glares at him. “Eat me.” He sneers, with the snarl of his top lip.

“Yeah,” Lucifer sighs. “That’s what I thought.”

With that, he nods to the three demons still in the room and leaves, closing the door behind him. The demons advance toward Dean, menacing grins on their faces.

He just scowls at them, his defiant eyes masking the shattered soul beneath the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I know I'm really putting Dean through it. I know I am. I'm sorry.
> 
> I mean, I'm not really that sorry.
> 
> But I PROMISE, it'll be okay.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What will the reader do, now that she knows just how close she is to Dean?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, fourth chapter tonight.
> 
> My eyes hurt, my hands hurt, and it's totally worth it.
> 
> I really hope you're enjoying.

“Seriously Crowley?!” Sam shouts angrily. “You were gonna let Dean sell his soul? And then you left him ALONE to be jumped by half a dozen demons? LUCIFER’s demons?!”

He glares at Crowley as he, Crowley, and Cass now stand around in the kitchen.

“Well, what else was I supposed to do?!” Crowley shrieks. “Just let myself get jumped too?! We were outnumbered! At least this way, I was able to report back here and tell you and Feathers what happened!”

Sam groans and throws his hands up in the air, and Cass just stares at Crowley angrily.

“And what exactly are you here to report?” Cass asks. “Do you have any idea where they may have taken him?”

Crowley just looks blankly back and forth between the two of them, and Sam groans once more, looking up in frustration. Then, he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and looks at Crowley intensely. He takes a few deliberate strides toward Crowley until he is only inches from him, towering over him.

“Then, get to work.” He growls. “Because once again, you got him into this. So, reach out to any connections you have. There’s gotta be a demon, out there, somewhere, who knows where Lucifer is holed up.” He narrows his eyes at Crowley. “Find him.”

Crowley shakes his shoulders as if a chill is running up his spine.

“Ooh, Samantha, you know I love it when you take control.”

Sam just continues glaring down at him, and Crowley’s sarcastic expression fades.

“Right. Well, I suppose I can do that. I’ll let you know what I find out.” And with that, he disappears.

Sam and Cass exchange worried looks once more.

“I’ll be listening closely.” Cass says. “In case he prays to me. If he even can.”

Sam clenches his jaw as he looks at Cass.

“Honestly, the scariest part is that even if he could pray to you, I don’t know if he would. I…” He looks down, swallowing hard. “I don’t know if he’ll even want to be saved.”

Dean grunts out in pain as a demon lands another blow to his gut. He breathes through his nose, trying to catch his breath, but another blow lands before he even has a chance.

Normally, he’d be telling these demons where to shove it after each and every hit. He’d be laughing in their faces, making fun of their appearance and the smell of their breath.

But right now, he doesn’t care enough to do that.

He doesn’t care enough about anything.

He knows he should. He still has Sammy and Cass to get back to. He doesn’t want to let them down by giving up. But the truth is, he gave up a long, long time ago. And he knows they know that too.

So, he doesn’t make his usual sarcastic comments. He doesn’t try to block the blows, or fight back. Because he’s getting what he deserves, for what he did to you. And every punch, every kick, is just bringing him one step closer to no longer having to live without you.

You tug at your chains for about the millionth time, your mind still racing through how you’re going to get out of here.

Because you’re going to get out of here.

Lucifer thought telling you Dean was right down the hall would somehow hurt you more. The way he said it, it was as if he thought that would somehow discourage you, make you feel helpless because you aren’t able to see the man you love even though he’s only yards away.

But the thing is, Lucifer just doesn’t know you well enough yet. Because that knowledge doesn’t discourage you at all. It only fuels your fire even more. You have not gone through all you’ve gone through with Dean for this to be the end.

You have literally gone through Hell and back with him.

Hell and back, and plenty more after that.

You’re not going to allow him to be tortured just down the hall from you. You’re not going to let him go any longer thinking you’re dead. Some metal, a locked door, and a few demons don’t stand a chance against the connection you share with him.

And Lucifer’s powers may not work on you, but they will certainly work on Dean.

So you gotta get to Dean before Lucifer does.

You look up at your wrists and get an idea. One that will suck. But you don’t care.

Because dammit, you’ll do anything to get to your man.

You take a deep breath and clench your jaw, then you grab your left thumb with your right hand. Your entire body is tensed up preparing for the pain you’re about to inflict on yourself, and in one swift motion you yank on your thumb, hearing a loud pop. 

You bite down hard in order to hold in the shout of pain that wants to escape your lips. You squeeze your eyes closed as the pain surges through your hand and wrist. Then, slowly, you pull your dislocated hand out of the shackle.

Even though the pain is excruciating, you reach for your hidden lock pick. The one that no one ever thinks to look for. Thankfully. And damn, it really seems to come in handy.

You pull it out and begin to pick at the lock on your right wrist, even though your left hand is trembling. As you do this, your eyes keep glancing at the door, knowing that if anyone walks in right now, you’re completely done for.

Finally, the lock clicks off of your wrist and you bring your right arm down as well. Your shoulders ache with the change in position, and your legs are wobbly from having your full weight on them for the first time in a while.

You glance to your left and see the demon and angel blades still sitting on the tray next to you. A smirk forms on your face as you reach for the demon blade it and pick it up. And damn, does it feel good in your hand.

“Not a smart move, Satan.” You chuckle to yourself as you tuck both blades in your back pockets.

Then, you rush to kneel in front of the door, first listening to see if you can hear anything on the other side. When you don’t, you get to work beginning to pick the lock. Your heart begins to beat a little faster when you hear it unlock.

This is it. It’s now or never. You’re gonna have to make a break for it. You’re just gonna have to hope that you can somehow make it out the door, down the hall, find the room that Dean is in, and get in there to rescue him – all without being noticed.

You’ve accomplished more impossible things than this, right?

You take another deep breath as you begin to turn the doorknob. Your heart is racing, adrenaline rushing, and you peek your head out slowly. There’s no one in sight. No one guarding any doors, as far as you can see.

You smile to yourself once more as Lucifer’s overconfidence and constantly underestimating you continues to pay off for you.

You bolt down the hall silently, glancing in each room as you run by. There are only a few rooms, but they are all unlocked, open, and empty.

All except for one.

You see it at the very end of the hall. And somehow, you just know what’s behind it.

Who’s behind it.

You stealthily rush over to it, completely aware that a demon – or Lucifer - could show up at any second. You press your ear against the door, anxiously listening for the sound of Dean being tortured. But all you hear is silence on the other side.

You realize the demons must be taking a break for now. After all, they did take a few breaks from torturing you. You unlock the door from the outside, and begin to slowly turn the handle.

Your heart feels as though it may just burst right out of your chest as you open the door. You’re anticipating seeing Dean on the other side of it, but you’re worried about what shape he will be in when you do.

And then, you see him.

His arms are strung up above his head just like yours were, his head is hanging forward, his chin resting against his chest. He’s bruised and he’s bloody.

But he’s alive.

You quietly close the door behind you, and the butterflies dance in your stomach at seeing Dean, in the flesh, for the first time in so long.

He hears the door and begins to stir, but he doesn’t look up right away.

“Seriously, you guys are back already?” He grumbles, still not looking up. “Haven’t you had enough for now?”

“Oh, I’ll never have enough of you, handsome.” You breathe.

His head snaps up instantly, and his green eyes connect with your Y/E/C ones.

That emerald gaze takes your breath away, and any pain your body had been feeling before this second, completely fades away.

He stares at you, his eyes studying your face in complete and total disbelief.

“Hey there, tough guy.” You utter.

His eyes begin to fill with tears and he lets out a shaky, sharp exhale.

“I know what you may be thinking,” You say as you take a step toward him. “But I am not a demon.”

You look deep into his eyes and begin to smile. “Your name is Dean Winchester. You’re almost as big a Bob Seger fan as I am, you like white wine more than you’d like to admit, you’ll make any excuse to play a good game of Truth or Dare, and you’re still lucky I didn’t knock your lights out that first night at the bar in Missouri.”

He laughs out in pure awe as the tears continue to well in his eyes and he continues studying you in complete wonder.

“And,” You take another step toward him, now only a foot away from him as the tears start to form in your eyes as well, “You are the love of my life.”

You take another step toward him, reaching up and placing your lock pick in his hand, allowing him to begin unlocking his own cuffs. As he does this, you gaze at each other in complete and utter adoration for a few more brief seconds before you lunge forward, grabbing his face in your hands and pressing your lips against his more urgently than you ever have before. He inhales sharply, then kisses you back so fervently and passionately that you swear you feel actual electricity coming from his lips. It’s as if with this one kiss, you are breathing the life back into his body. For these few brief seconds, nothing else that’s going on matters at all. Your lips move together in overwhelming need, and in an instant, his hands drop from the cuffs above him and he grabs your face firmly. Your heart is bursting and every nerve in your body is lit up at the feeling of his palms on your cheeks. The desperation and desire behind his every move is completely evident, and the power of your connection in this moment is indescribable. 

It is complete and total euphoria.

He pulls back and studies your face once more, his jaw trembling and his tearful eyes brimming with love.

“I missed you, Y/N. God, you have no idea how much I fucking missed you.” He croaks.

You smile at him, your heart fluttering as you look at his beautiful face.

“I could say the same to you, Winchester.”

He lets out a joyous, shaky laugh as he wraps his arms around you suddenly and pulls you into his chest so tightly you think he might be cutting of your air completely. You melt into his hug, burying your face in his chest and wrapping your arms around him just as tightly. He rests his chin on top of your head, squeezing his eyes closed tightly and letting his tears drop down his cheeks.

After a moment, you both pull back once more and look at each other.

“I love you.” He says. “I love you so god damn much. You…” He looks down as his voice cracks. He licks his lips and looks back up at you. “You don’t have a clue just how much I love you, Sweetheart.”

You heart flutters and you smile back at him, placing your hands on his cheeks.

“I love you too, Dean.”

He closed his eyes and inhales sharply when he hears his name roll off your lips. Something he was so certain he was never going to hear again.

He opens his eyes and studies you once more, the disbelief still evident in his features.

“How… how are you here?” He asks.

“Lucifer.” You answer. “He brought me back.”

Dean furrows his brows as you watch his head fill with a million more questions, but you realize you don’t have the time to answer any of them right now.

“I will tell you everything I know,” You whisper, “As soon as we get the Hell out of here.”

With that, you pull the demon blade out of your back pocket and hand it to him, and pull the angel blade out and hold it in your own hand.

He looks down at the blade and back up to you.

“That… is my girl. Savin’ my ass yet again.” He drawls with his signature Dean smile, and it makes you weak in the knees. You smile back at him.

“Ready to kick some demon ass together?” You ask.

He nods. “Hell yeah.”

Slowly, you open the door and the two of you begin to creep further down the hall, both of you scoping out an exit. At the same time, you both see what looks like the front door, and you rush toward it. Before you reach it, though, a few demons exit the doorway next to you. They look at you in surprise before rushing toward you both, and you both lunge at them as well. The louder the fight becomes, the more demons begin to show up to join in.

But it doesn’t matter.

Because you and Dean work together seamlessly, dodging and ducking and defending each other just as you always have, slashing and stabbing and taking out demon after demon with ease. After a few moments of this, there are about a dozen dead demons surrounding the two of you, and you look at each other with such an incredibly intense energy that it almost makes you dizzy.

He reaches out for your hand, and you grab his as the two of you run out the front door. You both smile in relief when you see a car parked out front. You begin to walk toward it, when a voice sounds from behind you.

“Uh, yeah, I don’t think so.”

The two of you spin around in surprise, and see Lucifer standing only a few feet away. Dean instinctively takes a step forward, putting himself between you and Lucifer to protect you.

“You two,” He points between you and Dean, “Are not leaving yet. I’m not done with you.”

“Yeah? Well we’re done with you.” You state confidently as you take a step forward, now putting your own body between Lucifer and Dean.

Dean looks at you in confusion and concern, but you just stare back at him, giving him that stare that you always have, and somehow – he just knows to trust you.  
You lift your angel blade in front of you, glaring deep into Lucifer’s eyes.

“We’re leaving,” You say, “And you can’t stop us.”

Lucifer scoffs. “Uh, I think I can.”

“Oh, do you?” You narrow your eyes at him. “Do you really, though?”

You take another step toward him.

“And what exactly are you gonna do, huh Lucy?” You demand cockily.

Dean’s eyes go wide as he hears the way you’re talking to the LITERAL Devil, and he just looks on, completely speechless.

Lucifer’s expression darkens as he looks back at you, the two of you sharing in a secret that even Dean doesn’t know yet. He looks from you, over to Dean.

“Careful now, Y/N.” Lucifer mutters. “I could still snap his neck with the flick of my wrist.”

Dean swallows hard, but you just maintain your confident gaze into Lucifer’s eyes as you take another step closer to him. Your heart is pounding from the fear coursing through your veins, but you won’t let him see that.

“And I could plunge this blade into your chest with the flick of mine.” You assert. “And I just might be even quicker on the draw than you are. You really willing to take that risk?”

He hesitates for a few more seconds, eyeing the blade in your hand, before scoffing again. "Please. Look at you. You're hurt. You don't stand a chance."

A smile creeps across your face as you continue looking at him. "Yeah? Then why do you still look so uncertain?"

The two of you continue to stare at each other for what feels like forever, when you see the pure frustration and rage flash across his features. He looks at Dean, then back at you.

“This isn’t over.” He whispers.

And then, he’s gone.

Dean looks around in confusion, and then lets out a nervous breath when he realizes Lucifer is actually gone. Then, his shocked eyes look at you.

“Look, darlin’, I know you’re reckless, but that was takin’ it to a whole new level. What in the Hell was that?”

You smile at him. “I told you, handsome. I will tell you everything. But let’s get out of here first.”

He looks at you for a few more seconds before nodding in agreement, and the two of you hop into the old car parked out front. He quickly hotwires it, and turns to you once more before putting it in drive.

He gazes at you tenderly, looking as though he still can’t believe you’re really sitting next to him. Suddenly, he reaches out and wraps his big hand around the back of your head, pulling you forward and kissing you deeply. You kiss him back, and you feel goosebumps all over your body when you do.

After a few more minutes, you pull away and gaze at each other once more, and those green irises warm you from the inside out.

“Take me home, Dean.” You whisper with a smile.

He closes his eyes and grunts out a delighted, “Mmm.”

Then, he opens his eyes and looks deeply into yours.

“As you wish, Sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY!!!!
> 
> See, I promised it would be okay.
> 
> Okay, I'm finally done for tonight. But it ain't over, trust me. I'm still not done with it yet.
> 
> I adore you guys, so thanks for reading.


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's perspective of the reunion with the Reader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Sorry it's been a little, things have been pretty hectic lately. I hope everyone is safe and healthy right now!
> 
> I just really thought we needed to get Dean's perspective of their reunion.
> 
> AKA I just really wanted to write Dean's perspective. Hope you enjoy!

He’s given up.

His wrists sting and his head pounds and his ribs ache, and none of it means anything.

These demons continue to ask him where Sam is, and he continues to stay silent. At least his last act will be protecting his little brother while telling the Devil to shove it, one last time.

As much as the blows hurt, they also feel good. They feel like exactly what he deserves, for what he did to you. The pain of the punches is somehow just a little better than the numbness he’s been feeling without you.

Whenever the demons leave, he closes his eyes and sees you. He runs through those same amazing memories he’s run through every night since he lost you. He would give anything to see that smile one last time. To hold you close to him. To kiss those lips and feel that warmth that only your love can give him.

But he never will.

So, he hangs his head. He lets the shackles above him tear at his wrists and tug at his shoulders. He feels the sadness swallowing him whole and drowning him completely. And he waits for the next beating, knowing that no physical pain could ever match the pain he already feels in his soul.

He hears the door open, even though he’s sure it’s only been a couple minutes since the demons last left. He blinks his eyes, not yet even bothering to lift his head.

“Seriously, you guys are back already?” He grumbles, still not looking up. “Haven’t you had enough for now?”

And then, he hears the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Oh, I’ll never have enough of you, handsome.”

Every hair on his body stands on end at the sound. He snaps his head up, and it’s then that he finds himself looking directly into your mesmerizing Y/E/C eyes.

His heart instantly feels as if it’s going to explode. His stomach is tying itself in knots and he feels a rush of adrenaline course through his veins. His mouth is open, but he can’t get any words out. He studies your face, taking in every little detail that he was so certain he would never see again.

“Hey there, tough guy.”

He hears that voice again and it’s enough to bring tears to his eyes. He lets out a shaky, sharp exhale, and it feels like he’s breathing clean air for the first time in four months.

“I know what you may be thinking,” You say, taking a step toward him.

There is no possible way you could know what he’s thinking. What he’s feeling.

“But I am not a demon.”

The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. It probably should have, but it didn’t. Because he knows you’re not. He doesn’t know how he knows. But he does. The connection he has with you tells him that you’re real, you’re you, and you’re standing right here in front of him.

And he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.

“Your name is Dean Winchester,”

You smile as you say it, and that smile soothes his pain better than any painkillers ever could.

“You’re almost as big a Bob Seger fan as I am,”

He will happily serenade you with Bob Seger songs for the rest of his life.

“You like white wine more than you’d like to admit,”

He’ll admit it. He’ll admit anything for you, whenever you want, forever.

“You’ll make any excuse to play a good game of Truth or Dare,”

Right now, he’s daring himself not to blink so he doesn’t have to take his eyes off of you for even a millisecond.

“And you’re still lucky I didn’t knock your lights out that first night at the bar in Missouri.”

He laughs breathlessly, still overcome by pure shock and joy. He is lucky. He’s the luckiest man alive.

“And,” You take another step toward him, and the details of your perfect face become even clearer.

“You are the love of my life.”

And you are his.

You step even closer, and he continues to watch you in complete awe as you reach up and place something in his hand.

Lock pick.

Figures, you appear here magically, like the most amazing dream come true, and you’re saving his ass while you do it.

He begins to pick at the locks around his wrists, but never once takes his gaze off of you. You’re so close to him now, and the familiar scent of your breath makes his body quake with need. He still doesn’t have any words. Not a single one could express what he’s feeling right now. All he can do is look at you. 

And as you continue to get closer, he’s aware of the pounding of his heart in his chest. The energy between the two of you, that pure need, is more raw and powerful than it ever has been before. And he has never needed anything more in his life than the way he needs to touch you right now.

Suddenly, you lunge at him, and all the breath leaves his body when he feels those soft lips press against his own. He inhales sharply as the spark of your kiss hits him, but melts into you immediately. Your hands are holding him so tightly and the warmth of your palms seeps into his skin and it feels as though he’s alive again for the first time since he lost you. The kiss is so incredible, and yet all he wants to do is touch you. He works at the locks urgently, never once pulling his lips away from yours.

And then finally, he’s free.

In an instant, he brings his hands to your face and grips you with such desperation that his muscles ache. He holds your cheeks firmly in his calloused palms and in this moment, he swears he’s never felt anything softer. Your lips move together in such perfect synchronicity, just as they always used to, but there’s a level of desire behind this kiss that’s completely unmatched by any kiss before.

Right now, he’s certain you could light up the whole world with the power between the two of you.

As hard as it is, he finally forces himself to pull away from the kiss, just so he can look at your flawless face again. As he looks at you, he feels such a rush of sheer love that it nearly overwhelms him. He feels the tears burn his eyes and he feels his jaw quiver and there is so much he wants to say to you and yet there’s one thing he needs you to know first.

“I missed you, Y/N. God, you have no idea how much I fucking missed you.”

You smile at him again, and his heart flutters.

“I could say the same to you, Winchester.”

He can’t stop the smile that bursts across his face or the joyful chuckle that bursts from his chest at the sound of that. All at once, he feels how desperately he needs your body even closer to his. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest, and rests his chin on top of your head. He’s so overwhelmed with relief, so full of pure happiness, that all he can do is close his eyes and let the tears drop down his cheeks. He holds you this way for a moment, until you both pull back once more. In that instant, he realizes he hasn’t yet said the most important thing. The thing that he has been aching to say to you one more time, every day for the last four months.

“I love you.” He says. “I love you so god damn much. You…” He looks down as his voice cracks. He licks his lips and looks back up at you. “You don’t have a clue just how much I love you, Sweetheart.”

He wishes he could say it a million more times. He wishes that he could somehow express the love he has for you. But he knows there will never be any combination of words that could do justice to that kind of love.

“I love you too, Dean.”

And suddenly, his heart’s exploding all over again. He closes his eyes and lets the words – lets your words – wash over him and make him whole again. 

When he opens his eyes again and studies your face once more, he finally remembers the reality of the situation.

“How… how are you here?” He asks.

“Lucifer.” You answer. “He brought me back.”

Lucifer?! That doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t understand. And it is strange as Hell for him, but right now he’s feeling grateful… to the Devil.

“I will tell you everything I know,” You whisper, “As soon as we get the Hell out of here.”

And then he watches as you pull a blade for each of you out of your pockets, and he’s once again dumbfounded by how god damn incredible you are.

“That… is my girl. Savin’ my ass yet again.”

You smile when he says it, but he knows you don’t have idea just how much he means that. You’ll never know the way you’ve saved him.

Ready to kick some demon ass together?” You ask.

And good God, he has never been more ready in his life.

He nods. “Hell yeah.”

He feels like himself for the first time in so long as the two of you slash and fight your way out of the building. No amount of demons could stand a chance against the two of you right now. With his girl by his side, he feels invincible. And there ain’t a demon in the world that could stop him from finally bringing you home.

He looks at you as you effortlessly fight three demons at a time like it’s nothing. You’re such a bad ass. You’re so sexy. The excitement he feels when he watches you, ignites a fire in him that he was certain had been extinguished for good.

After only a few moments, you’ve fought your way out together. He beams with pride as he takes you by the hand and leads you outside, and yet another wave of relief washes over him when he spots an old car. He doesn’t care how beat up it is. He will find a way to start it. And he will get you both back home.

But then, he hears him.

“Uh, yeah, I don’t think so.”

You both spin around, and Dean’s stomach drops when he sees Lucifer only feet from the both of you. Instantly, he steps forward, placing himself between you and Lucifer.

He doesn’t care what it takes. Lucifer can snap him apart joint by joint, peel the flesh from his bones, and he still won’t let him hurt you.

He will never, ever let anything hurt you again.

“You two,” Lucifer points between you both, “Are not leaving yet. I’m not done with you.”

“Yeah? Well we’re done with you.” You state confidently as you take a step forward, now putting your own body between Lucifer and Dean.

Confusion and concern wash over him, and his heart begins to pound as he sees how close you are to Lucifer. Every fiber of his being wants to jump in front of you, to protect you, and he almost does.  
But then he looks into your eyes.

And despite the panic he’s feeling, your eyes calm him down. They always have. He had almost forgotten what it felt like – this stare that the two of you share in moments like these. The indelible trust that has in you, especially when you look at him like this, tells him that he doesn’t need to worry. That you’ve got this.

You always do.

“We’re leaving,” You say, lifting your angel blade in Lucifer’s direction, “And you can’t stop us.”  
Lucifer scoffs. “Uh, I think I can.”

“Oh, do you?” You narrow your eyes at him. “Do you really, though?”

Dean watches you take another step toward him.

“And what exactly are you gonna do, huh Lucy?” You demand cockily.

Dean’s eyes go wide. What the Hell are you doing? Somehow, some way, you continue to bring new meaning to the word reckless. He sees Lucifer’s express grow even darker as he looks between both of you.

“Careful now, Y/N.” Lucifer mutters. “I could still snap his neck with the flick of my wrist.”

His stomach sinks a little further when he hears that, and he swallows hard. He just keeps his gaze fixed on you, so impressed by your confidence as you take yet another step toward Lucifer.

“And I could plunge this blade into your chest with the flick of mine.” You assert. “And I just might be even quicker on the draw than you are. You really willing to take that risk?”

Then, Lucifer hesitates for a few seconds as he looks down at the blade in your hand. And that’s when Dean realizes. He doesn’t know why, or how, but the Devil is scared of you.

"Please. Look at you. You're hurt. You don't stand a chance." Lucifer spits.

Dean watches you, his heart still pounding, as you take yet another step toward Lucifer.

"Yeah? Then why do you still look so uncertain?" You smile as you ask it.

Dean’s completely speechless as he watches you, so fearless, so cocky, and he is now some super weird combination of terrified and turned on.

His girl is a god damn goddess.

He continues to watch as you and Lucifer stare each other down for what feels like forever, until Lucifer finally falters. He looks angrily at Dean, then back to you, and Dean holds his breath, unsure of what he’s about to do next.

“This isn’t over.” He whispers.

And then, he’s gone.

Dean looks around, and his head is spinning as he tries to come to grips with the fact that you literally just scared away the Devil himself. He lets out a relieved breath, and looks at you in shock and wonderment.

“Look, darlin’, I know you’re reckless, but that was takin’ it to a whole new level. What in the Hell was that?”

You smile at him. “I told you, handsome. I will tell you everything. But let’s get out of here first.”

He studies your face for a few more seconds, and as many questions as he still has, not a single one of them matter right now. Because you’re still here, and your still his, and that’s all he needs.

He nods at you and the two of you climb in the old car. He hotwires it as quickly as he can, but realizes how desperately he needs to look at you – really look at you – one more time before he starts driving.

He turns to you, and his heart aches as he looks at you. But it’s not a bad ache. It’s not the kind of ache he’s been feeling for four months. This is a good ache. Like the way your jaw aches when you taste something that’s so sweet, you almost can’t handle it.

He reaches out and wraps his hand around the back of your head and pulls you in for a kiss. There are fireworks in his belly and a warmth in his chest and as he kisses you, it’s as if he can feel the pieces of his broken heart coming back together. You both pull away after a few minutes, and he can’t help but study your face once more.

“Take me home, Dean.”

Hearing his name roll off of your perfect lips is enough to make him weak. He closes his eyes and soaks it in, feeling so happy it almost hurts.

He opens his eyes and looks at you. The love of his life. His destiny. The most beautiful creature this world has ever created.

Alive.

He’ll take you home. He’ll take you anywhere you wanna go. As long as you never leave his side again.

“As you wish, Sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I know everyone is waiting for what comes next, and don't worry - I am working on it! I just really wanted to fit this chapter in here as well, so I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Love you guys - stay healthy!


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Reader finally arrive back at the bunker together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, just wanna say I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy during this crazy, crazy time.
> 
> Now, it's time for the kind of reunion everyone has really been waiting for.
> 
> If ya catch my drift.

You and Dean drive straight back to the bunker, listening to classic rock on the radio and just soaking in each other’s company. You roll down the window and close your eyes and let the wind wash over you as you fly down the road. You're not talking about the Devil, or your death, or him being a demon. You're just riding. It feels so amazing to just ride with him, just like you used to. He has one hand on the steering wheel and one on your thigh and he glances at you every 30 seconds as he drives, as if he’s making sure you’re still really there.

You’re just enjoying being with him like this so much, that it’s not until you get closer to the bunker that you truly realize how rough you both look. You’re both bruised, bloodied, and your injured hand is screaming in pain.

But honestly, it doesn’t matter.

Because you’re going home.

Finally, you’re pulling up just outside the bunker, and the excitement begins to rush through your system. Dean gets out first and rushes over to open your door for you, and you grin at him as you step out.

“You ready, Sweetheart?” He asks, returning your smile.

“Hell yeah.” You breathe.

He heads toward the door, and you take a deep breath as you follow close behind.

As Dean begins to open the door, you faintly hear what sounds like arguing from down below.

“What do you mean you’ve got nothing, Crowley?!” Sam shouts. “He’s out there somewhere because of you! Cass and I have been looking so hard and-"

The shouting stops abruptly when the door opens, and Dean enters the room and stands at the top of the stairs. Sam, Cass, and Crowley are all standing down below, around the map table. Their heads all snap to look at the stairs, and the shock is evident on all of their faces when they see Dean standing there.

“Dean!” Sam shouts as relief washes over his face and he rushes to get closer to the bottom of the stairs, Cass and Crowley following a few feet behind. “How did you-"

Suddenly, you walk in behind Dean, looking down at all three of them.

If you thought they looked shocked when they saw Dean, that was nothing compared to the shock on their faces at seeing you. Dean smiles at you and gestures knowingly for you to begin walking down the stairs ahead of him. You smile back at him, and the two of you hold each other’s gaze for a few seconds. Then, you begin heading down the stairs, all three men below staring up at you in awe. You get to the bottom of the stairs, now only a few feet from all of them, and they all seem as if they’re frozen in place as they look at you.

You look at Sam first, staring into his wide puppy-dog eyes, which are now beginning to well with tears. Your stomach flips and your heart pounds at the sight of him. You smile warmly at him, overjoyed by the sight of his adorably surprised face.

“Hi there, Ivy League.” You state breathlessly.

He lets out a teary chuckle as his shocked expression melts into a massive smile. Suddenly, he rushes you, taking two big strides until he’s right in front of you and wrapping his big arms tightly around you, pulling you into his chest. You close your eyes and melt into him, feeling the tears once again sting your own eyes as you hear the rapid beating of Sam’s heart and you nestle your face into his warm chest. After a moment, you both pull away and he looks down at you, teary and smiling, studying your face in happy disbelief.

“It’s really you.” He breathes.

You chuckle slightly, staring up at him and patting his chest. “It’s really me, Sammy.”

“I… We…” He looks down and clears his throat before looking earnestly into your eyes, “I really missed you, Y/N.”

You smile knowingly at him, nodding your head in understanding.

“I missed you, too.”

Just then, your eyes flick over to Cass, whose eyes are still wide as he looks at you. You walk over to him, standing right in front of him and smiling into his bright blue eyes.

“Hey, Cass.” You say.

He stares at you, studying your face blankly for a few seconds, with no reaction at all. Then suddenly, he reaches out and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest for a hug. He catches you by surprise, but you quickly wrap your arms around him as well, holding him tightly for a few long seconds. You pull away and look at him once more, and he smiles at you.

“Hi, Y/N.” He states. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks, buddy.” You utter, smiling back.

Just then, Crowley awkwardly clears his throat, and you turn to look at him, standing a few feet behind Cass. He’s looking at you, clearly just as surprised as the rest that you’re here. You take a couple steps toward him, your face serious.

“Crowley.” You state with a nod.

“Hello, pet.” He looks you up and down. “You’re looking well. It’s good to see you.”

You raise an eyebrow and look at him seriously for a few more seconds, and you can see the unease on his face. Finally, you relax your resolve and smirk at him slightly, satisfied with the intimidation you’ve dished out.

“You too, Crowley. But, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while.” You narrow your eyes at him and lower your voice to a whisper, “If you ever steal my boyfriend again, I’ll kill you.”

He looks flustered for only a brief second before chuckling slightly and nodding.

Just then, Dean reaches the bottom of the stairs as well, and takes a step toward Sam. Sam looks at him, surprised and concerned at first as he assesses Dean’s wounds.

But then his eyes connect with Dean’s.

And he feels a second wave of relief and joy when he sees his brother smiling.

For the first time in so long, he can’t even remember.

And as they look at each other, they’re silently acknowledging the happiness they feel. Because you are finally back. And they don’t have to say a damn thing to know how much that means to both of them. After a few seconds of this, they both chuckle in relief, and wrap their arms around each other, roughly pulling each other into a tight hug.

You walk back up to them as they’re pulling out of their hug, and watch them with a smile.

“Finally back with my boys.” You breathe.

They both grin as they look back at you, and you feel the love exuding from both of them.

And your heart feels full.

“Truly, this reunion is exceedingly heart-warming,” Crowley pipes up, “But am I the only one with an abundance of questions for the both of you?”

You and Dean exchange glances, knowing that not even Dean knows the full story yet.

You take a deep breath and look around.

“I will tell you guys everything, okay? I promise.”

“Yeah, well, whatever happened, it clearly must’ve hurt.” Sam says, looking between you and Dean. “No offense, you both look like shit.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean grunts, wrapping an arm around his aching stomach, “Demons are dicks.”

It’s then that Sam looks down and really notices your injured hand. You look down too and see just how swollen, purple, and painful it looks. The adrenaline of being back with everyone you love is helping to numb the pain, but it definitely does look awful.

“Holy crap, Y/N. What did you do?” Sam asks.

You look around at all of them as they wait for a response.

“Well, what was I supposed to do? I had to get out of the cuffs somehow.” You smirk slightly.

They all go slightly wide-eyed at your response, but Sam’s brief surprise melts into a chuckle.

“Yup.” He says, “You’re definitely still you.”

“Can I help with that?” Cass asks, taking a step forward, looking at your hand.

“Depends,” You answer, eyeing him curiously, “You still running off borrowed grace?”

“Well, I… yes. But it’s… newer.” He answers sheepishly.

You raise your eyebrows at him.

“Healing your hand will not damage my grace.” He states.

You look at him for a few more seconds, before finally softening. “Fine. But just the hand. The rest will heal just fine on its own.”

A small smile forms on the corner of his mouth as he takes your hand in his, and it glows brightly. After a few seconds, he removes his hands and you lift your own, clenching and unclenching your fist with ease.

You smile at him. “Thank you, Castiel.”

He nods and smiles back.

“Okay,” You sigh, “Someone get me something to drink and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“I’m on it.” Sam chuckles before turning to head toward the kitchen, while the rest of you get seated around the map table.

After a moment, Sam returns with a fresh bottle of whiskey and brings it directly to you. You grin up at him as he hands it to you before taking his own seat at the table. You unscrew the bottle and take a long swig, closing your eyes as the familiar burn fills your mouth and runs down your throat, warming your insides and relaxing you instantly.

“Ah.” You exhale. “It has been too damn long.”

You look at Dean and see him eyeing you with sparkling, smiling eyes, and you hand him the bottle with a wink.

Then, you take a deep breath.

“Okay,” You start, “As you probably know, he was nabbed by demons.” You say, nodding to Dean. “And as you can probably tell, they tortured him.”

He hands the bottle back to you, and you take another sip.

“They tortured him for information. About this place. About where it was. They wanted to find it and find you, Sam.”

Sam raises his eyebrows and looks between you and Dean.

“Why?” Sam asks.

“Because Lucifer told them to.” You answer, taking another sip.

Sam, Cass, and Crowley all look between you and Dean once again wide-eyed, but you just swallow your whiskey and look at them calmly.

“Save your surprise.” You say. “Because this is gonna get a lot weirder.”

You hand the bottle back to Dean, who takes another sip, all the while just silently watching and listening to you.

“And why did he want our dear Sam this time?” Crowley asks, eliciting a bitch face from Sam.

“I don’t know exactly. But he didn’t just want Sam. He wanted all of us. And he managed to grab Dean.” You pause, glaring at Crowley. “Thanks to you.”

Crowley just looks around ashamedly, but doesn’t say anything else.

“And,” You sigh, “He already had me. A couple days before he got Dean.”

Once again, you see the surprise wash over the room.

“That’s right. I am sitting here in front of you today all thanks to the graciousness of almighty Satan.” You mutter sarcastically.

Dean hands back the whiskey, and you take another sip, waiting for your words to sink in. You look around at everyone.

“He brought me back from the dead.” You state.

“Wh… I…” Sam stutters. “Why?”

You scoff as you look down, absent-mindedly picking at the label on the bottle before looking back up at him.

“He said he wanted to be friends. Y’know. Same old bullshit about me being special, him wanting to understand why. Truthfully, I think he just wanted me where he could keep an eye on me. The Devil’s a real douche.”

“Don’t we know it.” Sam agrees.

“And of course, he wanted me to tell him where you two were. And of course, I told him to bite me.” You smirk slightly at that, looking between the boys, and they both smile back.

“So, naturally, he had his demons torture me to try and change my mind. And he would pop in every once in a while for some conversation.”

“What kind of conversation?” Sam asks.

“Well, essentially, he said he was gonna take over the world and asked me to join him. And then, essentially, I made fun of his daddy issues and his over-inflated ego.” You state.  
“Of course you did.” Dean says, looking at you with pride.

“And… what happened?” Cass asks.

You look at Cass.

“He decided he wanted to give the torture a whirl.” You say, taking another long sip.

They all get a little pale when they hear that. Sam and Dean clench their jaws and swallow hard.

“What did he do to you?” Dean croaks.

You look at Dean.

“Not a god damn thing.” They all looked confused as you look around at them, and you clarify. “He tried. But… his powers didn’t work on me.”

They all stare at you, trying to understand, and letting your words sink in. After a few seconds, Crowley speaks up.

“So, what you’re saying… is that you’re immune to the powers of the bloody Devil?!”

You look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Guess so.”

Sam exhales sharply. “Holy crap.”

“That explains how you got us out of there.” Dean breathes, realization washing over his features. “How you scared him away.”

“You… scared Lucifer away?” Sam asks.

“Like the absolute bad ass that she is.” Dean says, his look of realization now fading into a proud smile. “She busted us both outta there. And when he came after us, she threatened him with her angel blade. And he practically ran off with his tail between his legs.”

Once again, they all look at you in amazement.

“Alright, everybody take a breath.” You say, before taking another sip. “I’m not a damn superhero. He told me Dean was there. So I got out and found him, and we fought our way out together.”

You hand Dean the bottle and smile at him. “It was a team effort.”

He smiles back, but shakes his head. “I don’t think so, darlin’. You saved my ass, and you know it. Chasin’ away the Devil, that was all you.”

“Well, it does make sense.” Cass states, and everyone looks at him, waiting for him to clarify. “God created you to protect the world from Lucifer, as the seal to his cage. It makes sense that God would also ensure the seal herself was protected.”

“So, when God created her, he basically made her Lucifer-proof?” Sam asks.

Cass nods.

You exhale sharply. “Well, shit.”

“And do we have any idea where he scampered off to?” Crowley asks.

“Well he didn’t exactly share all of his secret hiding places with me when we were hanging out.” You retort, and Sam and Dean chuckle slightly while Crowley just glares at you.

“What about Michael?” You ask. “Did he get out, too? Do we know where he might be?”

“It’s been quiet.” Cass answers. “Almost too quiet. No angels have heard anything from him.”

“Great.” You sigh. “So we don’t know where either of them are, or exactly what either of them might be planning.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Dean states, eyeing you adoringly.

“It doesn’t?!” Crowley scoffs, raising his eyebrows at Dean.

“No,” Dean breathes, never once taking his eyes off of you. “Not tonight it doesn’t.”

You smile at him, feeling your cheeks growing warm from just the way he’s looking at you.

Crowley rolls his eyes.

“Right. Lovely. Of course. I’m sure the END of the BLOODY WORLD can wait one more night.” He quips in frustration.

When no one responds to him, he just sighs. “I guess during this little reunion, I will head out and see if any of my men have heard any whispers about Lucifer.”

With that, he disappears from the room.

Cass clears his throat and stands as well. “I should be doing the same with Michael.” Before he leaves, he looks at you and smiles once more. “I’m glad you’re back, Y/N.”

You smile back. “Thanks, Cass. Me too.”

And with that, he’s gone as well.

Dean stands up and smiles down at you. “You want your room back, Gorgeous?”

You grin back, standing as well.

Sam smiles as he looks between the two of you. As he sees how happy you both are, he decides that telling you both that Metatron is in the dungeon can wait until the morning. You deserve to just enjoy being home.

Sam takes a step toward you and you smile up at him and he once again wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. You hug him back and when you pull away he smiles down at you, looking almost as if he still can’t believe you’re here.

“Thank you for saving my life.” He whispers, his giant puppy dog eyes earnest and emotional.

“Sam… you don’t need to thank me. I would do it again in a heartbeat.” You answer quietly.

“I know,” He says, “But uh… please don’t. Just stay right here.” He looks deep into your eyes. “Don’t leave us again.”

You smile again. “Don’t worry, Ivy league. I’m here for good. Not going anywhere.”

“Good.” A smile once again spreads across his face. ”Welcome home.”

Then, he looks at Dean.

“That goes for you, too.” He explains, studying his brother’s face. “I’m glad you’re back.”

They just look at each other, both knowing what Sam really means. That Dean is back in a lot more ways than just physical.

“Me too, Sammy.” He breathes, looking sincerely at his little brother. “Me too.”

Sam nods and smiles once more at you both, and then heads out of the room, leaving you and Dean alone. You look at each other, and you smile at him before excitedly beginning to walk toward your room.

When you reach the door, your heart races. You slowly turn the handle and go in, and you feel at home as you look around, realizing it’s just as you left it. Even the clothes on floor and messy, unmade bed.

“You couldn’t bother to make my bed?” You laugh, turning to Dean as he enters behind you.

“I, uh…” He licks his lips and looks down, furrowing his brows. “I didn’t go in. I… I couldn’t.”

You see the pain all over his face as he tries to explain himself to you.

“That’s okay.” You whisper, walking up to him and taking his face in your hand to comfort him. “Hey, that’s okay.”

He looks up at you and presses his face into your hand, relaxing instantly at your touch.

“To Hell with my room.” You say with a smirk. “I’ve always enjoyed your bed more anyway.” You wink at him, then rush past him to go next door to his room.

“Y/N, wait!” He yells after you, trying to stop you before you go in.

But you don’t listen to him, opening his door and walking into his room anyway.

And then you see how messy and unkempt it is. You look down at the nearly dozen empty bottles of whiskey scattered on the floor next to the bed. It’s as if you can feel the sadness that’s been left in the air. Your heart sinks, and it truly hits you for the first time how long you’ve really been gone.

You turn around to look at him as he stands in the doorway. He clenches his jaw and looks at you intensely.

“Like I said,” He rasps, “You have no idea how much I fucking missed you.”

Your heart aches for him. He spent four months without you. Four months believing you were dead. But really, it’s so much longer than that, that you’ve been away from each other. He was a demon for months, too. And you suffered for all that time without him. As you look at each other, it seems to come crashing down on both of you at once just how long it’s truly been since the two of you have been together.

Really, truly been together.

And the energy shifts.

It’s no longer sad. It’s something else, a desire that’s now fueled by that sadness. By that need. By that aching, yearning want that you have each had for each other for so god damn long.

For too god damn long.

You’re both dirty, exhausted, and sore. And none of that matters. That all seems to fade away in an instant.

You look into his eyes, and they’re consumed by such a raw, pleading desire that it makes your stomach flip. Without looking away from you, he slowly closes the door behind him. You’re a solid 5 feet from him, standing at the side of his bed, and staring at him with such a gut-wrenching need that you swear he can probably hear your heart beating.  
Neither of you advance towards each other, both of your chests heaving, both of you clearly being flooded with such a mix of emotions. The sadness of missing each other, the adrenaline of finally being together again, and the love that runs so deep within you both.

He looks you up and down, the hunger in his eyes growing each second, and he uses his tongue to drag his bottom lip up in between his teeth as his eyes once again connect with yours.

And then the force between you explodes.

He runs at you, and you’re ready for it, jumping into arms as he grips the meat of your thigh with one hand and the back of your head with the other. You wrap your legs around him as he continues to move forward, until your back is slammed up against the wall. Your lips connect, and the kiss elicits goosebumps all over your skin. Your hands are snaked around the back of his head, pulling his tongue even further into your mouth as he dips it between his needy lips. He breaks away from the kiss only to drag his lips down the side of your face and neck, causing you to moan and tighten the grip of your legs around him, pulling him in even further against your body.

You’re both breathing deeply, inhaling each other’s scents and panting through the lust overtaking the both of you. You’re grabbing at each other hungrily, needing to feel every inch of each other. Your left hand is tangled in the hairs at the nape of his neck as he continues to kiss your neck, and your right hand is squeezing his bicep and running up and down his upper arm. His left hand continues to tightly grip under your leg, right where your ass and your thigh meet and his right hand is gripping tightly to the side of your face. You’re both moaning and grunting and panting as you grind against each other, and you feel the blood rushing to your core. He trails his kisses back up your neck, eventually finding your lips once again.

“God,” He pants, in between kisses, “I missed you, Y/N.”

“I missed you, too.” You breathe. “I missed you so much.”

Suddenly, he pulls away from kissing you, and his emerald green irises stare into your own.

“Every night.” He says.

You furrow your brows. “What?”

“Every night,” He repeats, his thumb now caressing your cheek, his eyes studying your face intently, “I imagined this. I begged for this. Hell, I even prayed for it. For the chance to do this. One more time.”

Your heart flutters as you watch as his lustful eyes study you through his thick lashes.

You smile as you take his face in your hands, feeling his stubble against your palms.

“Well, it’s been a very long time, handsome.” You whisper, licking your lips and narrowing your eyes with a smirk, “So I want a Hell of a lot more than just one more time.”

That signature cocky smirk spreads across his face, and your heart begins to race just a little more when you see those crinkles at the corners of his smiling eyes.

“Oh, Sweetheart. I’ve been deprived of you for four months.” He licks his lips and brings his voice down to a raspy whisper. “And you’re about to feel all that pent up need, right now.”

You feel yourself throbbing at merely his words, and you can’t help but pull him in for another deep, desperate kiss. Suddenly, he turns, still gripping you tightly, and walks over to his bed. You hear the clanking of empty bottle as he kicks them to the side before dropping you down onto the bed, and then dropping down above you.

You push his flannel off of his shoulders and he pulls yours off of you. Then, he reaches down to grab the bottom of your t-shirt, slowly helping you lift it off over your head. He kisses you deeply as his hand reaches behind you, unclasping your bra and pulling it off before tossing it to the side. Without breaking the kiss, he reaches down to unbutton and unzip your jeans, and you lift your ass up off the bed to allow him to pull them down. He then breaks from the kiss only to pull the rest of the way down and off of you, and it’s then that he stands, looking down at you, lying on his bed in nothing but your panties.

As soon as he takes in your form, he lets out a delighted, emotional exhale and you swear you can see his eyes becoming glassy. You don’t move, just allowing him to soak you in. His eyes rake up and down your bare form slowly, and you once again see that hunger growing behind them. Eventually, they land back on your face and he shakes his head in pure wonder.

“Every time I think I’ve already seen the most beautiful sight in the world, you go ahead and prove me wrong.”

Your heart swells and you smile up at him.

“Come here, tough guy.” You whisper.

He smiles back, and once again brings himself down onto the bed. You instantly reach down and grab the bottom of his t-shirt, lifting to pull it off over his head, and you feel yourself lose your breath as you see his own bare torso. You run your hands gently over his chest and to his shoulders, then trail them gently down his back and then back up. He closes his eyes and inhales sharply at the feeling of your gentle touch.

Then, he opens his eyes and looks down at you, his pupils blown out with lust. He kisses you once more before bringing his mouth to the outside of your ear, and the feeling of his lips alone makes the hairs on your body stand on end.

“I missed the taste of you.” He growls, and you suddenly realize how wet you are. “I need to taste you, Sweetheart.”

With that, he begins to kiss down your chest, taking each of your nipples in his mouth for a few seconds on his way down. Then, he’s on his knees, his face only inches from your throbbing center. You look down at him, the desperation written all over your face, and he just hooks his fingers into the waistline of your panties and slowly drags them down and off of your legs. He looks down at your soaking folds, and he can’t stop the groan of pleasure that escapes his mouth at merely the sight of you.

He looks up at you, his eyes piercing into you as he begins to lower his mouth toward your clit, and it becomes clear to you that he wants to watch the look on your face when he finally brings his mouth down around it. And as soon as his tongue touches your desperate bundle of nerves, you furrow your brows and whine out in pleasure. His mouth is busy and yet you can still see the smirk in his eyes at your reaction. He closes his mouth around your clit, licking and sucking and flicking with the perfect pressure to start your orgasm building already.

You’re writhing under his mouth, your hands flying down to his head, your fingers tangling in his hair. He wraps one arm under your thigh, his hand holding you as firmly in place as he can. He brings the other hand up, slowly inserting his index finger inside you, following that with his middle finger. You whine out at the feeling, and he begins pumping them in and out of you slowly, then curling his fingers inside you. You grip his hair even tighter as he curls and uncurls them over and over again, his tongue still pressing and flicking against your clit.

“Dean!” You cry out, your body nearly convulsing beneath his mouth.

His focused eyes look at your flushed face, and you can see the satisfaction behind them. He watches as you climb toward your peak, never once letting his mouth leave your quivering center. He flicks his tongue just a little harder, and your body instinctively shoots up, your thighs wrapping around his head as you sit up. He doesn’t pull his fingers out of you, and instead begins to curl and uncurl them inside you even more quickly. He lifts his face from your pussy, but continues kneeling next to the bed, so you’re now face to face as he continues to pump his fingers rhythmically.

You moan out as the change of pace only further increases your pleasure. He grips the back of your head, holding you firmly and forcing you to look into his eyes.

“Let me see it, Gorgeous. Show me.” He huffs.

With that permission, your orgasm explodes inside of you and reverberates down your legs and up your spine. He watches you intently, and you can see the arousal all over face as you cum just for him. He continues to move his fingers inside you, slowing down gradually as you ride out the last waves of your orgasm.

You feel your legs shaking and you’re panting as you look into his eyes. He grins at you, his hand still on the back of your head, and pulls you in for a breathless kiss. When you both pull back, you look at him and feel your own arousal still overwhelming you, realizing how badly you still need him in every way.

You smile at him, pulling him to his feet and standing up as well. You push him backwards roughly, slamming him up against the wall. He raises his eyebrows and smirks, and you lean closer to him, your lips brushing his.

“You aren’t the only one who missed the taste.” You whisper, pulling a low growl from his throat.

You look into his eyes once more, watching his smirk fade as the hunger once again overtakes his features. You drop to your knees in front of him and begin unbuttoning his jeans, and he’s already rolling his hips toward you in desperate need. You pull his jeans and boxers off and toss them to the side. When you see his hard cock right in front of you, your heart races and your entire body aches for him.

You take his shaft in your hand, looking up at him with a needy hunger in your eyes. He looks down at you, and you feel his cock twitch at just the sight of you like this. You begin licking him from the base to the tip, and then back down. He instantly closes his eyes and groans at the feeling, and that’s when you wrap your lips around him and beginning moving your mouth up and down on him. The sounds he’s making as you do this only excite you more, and you feel your own core throbbing once more. You take his cock up and down a few times before taking it down all the way, the way you know he loves, and holding that for a few long seconds.

You feel his hand fly down and grab a handful of your hair as his hips buck in arousal and he whines out in pleasure and surprise.

“Ah, fuck, Y/N…” He rasps out your name, and that motivates you to take it down even deeper, holding your breath as you take the tip of his cock down into your throat. His body jumps, he grips your hair even tighter, and his other hand slaps against the wall behind him as he tries to steady himself.

He furrows his brows and bites his lip and growls out loudly as he looks down at you. You look back up at him, your eyes beginning to water, and he exhales sharply in disbelief at just how hot this is.

“Holy…” Is all he can manage to breathe out.

Finally, you take your mouth off of him, taking a deep breath and looking up at him mischievously. He looks down at you, completely overcome with lust, before his gaze become serious and he takes your face in his hands, his greens eyes studying yours.

“I need to be inside of you.” He says, in a desperate demand. “I can’t wait any longer.”

With that, he gently pulls you up before picking you up once more and spinning around, so that your back is once again against the wall. You wrap your legs around him, feeling his tip brushing the lips of your soaking pussy.

He looks into your eyes, studying your face with a need unlike anything you’ve ever seen before, and you return his gaze. Countless months of desire, and need, and constant yearning have finally built to this moment.

And you need him so badly.

“Do it, Dean.” You breathe.

With that, he pushes himself inside of you, and you both gasp in pleasure. But it’s so much more than pleasure. It’s the feeling of every pent up, painful emotion finally fading away all at once.

He furrows his brows and his face is a mix of lust and love as he feels your legs tighten around him even more. He pulls back slowly before pressing himself back in, and you whine out hungrily at the feeling of him filling you up. He begins to rhythmically pump in and out of you, his hands gripping your ass tightly, your arms thrown around his shoulders and your nails digging into his back.

He kisses you urgently, both of you breathing through your noses and moaning into each other’s mouths and desperately trying to have as much of each other as you possibly can.

“You feel so fucking good,” He pants, “God, I missed this feeling.”

“So did I, Dean,” You moan, your nails still digging into him, “I missed that big cock filling me up.”

“Oh, shit, Sweetheart…” He grunts as your words excite him further, and he begins to speed up. He grips you even tighter, and you hear the sound of skin on skin as he thrusts roughly into you, pounding against the wall each and every time.

You missed each other so much, needed this so badly, that your orgasms are building already. And you both know it. He picks up the pace once more, and you nearly scream out in elation as he hits your sweet spot each time.

“Don’t stop, Dean.” You beg. “I need it. I need you so bad.”

He growls and studies your face, his green eyes piercing through you and sending you hurling over the edge just as the tip of his cock hits your g-spot over and over again.  
You grab his face in your hands and pull him in for a kiss just as you’re cumming, whining out your orgasm into his lips and clenching around him as your legs tremble uncontrollable. He reaches his breaking point as well, gripping your ass even tighter and whining back into your mouth as he cums. He pumps into you steadily a few more times to ride it out, allowing you both to slowly come down from the immense high.

You look at each other, smiling and panting, and he walks over and slowly sits down on the bed, never even pulling out of you, just allowing you to remain in his lap as his hands trail gently up and down your thighs.

He leans back, his head on the pillow, and lets out a shaky, joyful breath. You’re still in his lap and straddling him, he’s still inside you, and you just look down at him in complete awe.

“Well, I guess you did miss me.” You laugh breathlessly.

He looks up at you, studying your bare form intently for a few seconds without saying a word. Then, his hands run slowly up your thighs, up your sides, and then to your chest, as he begins caressing your already sensitive nipples.

The touch send sparks through you and you look down at him in aroused surprise as you realize he still isn’t done. You feel your adrenaline pumping and blood rushing to your core once more, and it must be the same for him as you feel him growing even harder inside you once again.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” He growls seductively, “You don’t have any fucking idea.”

He sits up suddenly, his back against the headboard, and you wrap your arms around him as he wraps a hand around the back of your neck and pulls you forward, kissing you deeply once more.

While you’re still kissing, you begin to push yourself up in his lap, then bring yourself back down slowly. He grunts out into the kiss, his hands flying to your ass once more, kneading and squeezing and helping you lift yourself off of him and bring yourself back down.

You reach a steady rhythm, feeling him fill you up deeply each time you come back down onto his lap. You begin to speed up, bouncing relentlessly up and down in his lap, and he grips your hips as he lifts himself off the bed beneath you, snapping his hips up to match your rhythm and hit you in the perfect spot each time.

You lean forward, your hands snaking around the back of his neck as you ride him, and he now has one hand running up and down your back and the other gripping a tight handful of your hair. Your lips and noses are bumping and brushing against each other as you whine and growl and pant into each other’s open mouths.

You pick up your pace once more, and that’s when he can’t take it anymore, flipping you over suddenly so that you’re on your back and he’s now above you, but he never once pulls out of you.

You look into each other’s eyes, and time stops for a second. Everything fades, the world blurs, and there’s nothing but raw love exuding from the both of you.

He begins to pump into you again, this time slowly and deliberately, snapping his hips to fill you completely, over and over again. The slow, deliberate motions awaken every nerve in your body and completely take your breath away. The pleasure combined with the love you feel for him entirely consumes you, and you feel your eyes stinging with tears of pure ecstasy.

You see the same overwhelming emotion overtake his features as well as he continues his slow, long, deliberate strokes. His movements are perfectly fluid, and you feel your legs quaking as they wrap around him tightly. His left arm is under your back, his right hand on your face, and he holds you steady as he moves inside you. Your hands are wrapped around the back of his neck, and you move your hips with him, matching his rhythm with each stroke.

You look at him, his powerful green gaze intoxicating you, and he suddenly pushes inside you even further. Your eyes go wide and the immense pleasure washes over you both at the same time, and you both reach your peaks at once. You cum together, both of you holding each other steady and looking into each other’s adoring eyes.

He grunts out and buries his face in your neck, bringing his hand up and desperately clutching the side of your face as he pumps erratically a few more times, allowing you both to ride out your orgasms. You continue gripping him as well, gasping out and squeezing your eyes closed, forcing hot tears of pleasure to run down the sides of your face.

You stay this way for a few moments, letting the emotion wash over you and reeling from the pleasure you’re both still feeling.

Finally, he rolls onto his side, his arm still beneath your back, and you both stare up at the ceiling, your chests heaving up and down. After a few more moments, you finally find your voice.

“I missed being there.” You breathe.

“Being where?” He huffs, turning to look at you.

You look over at him, studying his beautiful features.

“You know.” You smirk. “Heaven.”

He chuckles, and you can see the pure happiness exuding from his face. He pulls you into his chest and wraps his arm around you, his fingers tracing along your shoulder. You close your eyes and inhale deeply, letting the breath out slow as you relax into his chest.

“I am never lettin’ you go again, Sweetheart.” He drawls.

“Mmm,” You hum, feeling completely and totally relaxed for the first time since you can remember, “I could say the same to you, Winchester.”

As Dean gazes down at you, he doesn’t think he’ll sleep tonight. He’s had plenty of sleepless nights over the last four months. But this one will be different. This time, he won’t be able to sleep because he’d rather look at you. The real you. Right here, in the flesh. This time, for the first time in what feels like a thousand lifetimes, Dean finally gets to hold you while you fall asleep on his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for Sam to share his secret about who he's got locked up in the dungeon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Boy, have I missed you. I'm so sorry it's been a few weeks since I posted anything. I know I don't need to tell you guys about how crazy things have been lately. I live in New Jersey, and we've been getting hit pretty hard here, so it's been a hectic time. I truly hope that you and all of your friends and family are safe and healthy right now. I know it's a hard time, but remember we're all in it together and we will get through it. 
> 
> But enough about that. You don't come here to talk about the craziness of the world, you come here to escape it. And so do I. So here we are. I'm finally hashing out my plans for the next few chapters, and I'm excited about it. Thanks for sticking with me for this long.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

You slowly crack your eyes open as the familiar warmth of Dean’s chest seeps into your cheek. You feel his thumb gently caressing your bare shoulder. You lift your head slightly and look up at him, only to find his bright green eyes already staring adoringly back down at you. You grin at him and smirk.

“Y’know, if you weren’t so damn handsome, I might say this is a little creepy.” You joke.

He chuckles.

“Well, Sweetheart, if me starin’ at you makes me creepy, I’ll gladly be creepy for the rest of my life.”

You grin at that as his hand comes up to cup the side of your face and pull you in for a kiss. When you pull away, his runs his hand slowly down your cheek, along your neck, and then down to your bare chest. You inhale sharply at the feeling of his palm on you, the feeling you can never get enough of, but you furrow your brows when his movement stops abruptly.

You look at him, watching as he tenses up and his eyes darken, his gaze piercing down and staring at your chest.

“Dean, what is-" You begin. But as you bring your own eyes down to your chest, it’s then that you see exactly what he’s staring at.

A scar.

It’s faint. So faint that neither of you even noticed it in all of your lust last night. But it’s there. Just between your breasts.

Right where Dean stabbed you.

He swallows hard as he runs his thumb gently along the scar, and you see the guilt crashing down all around him.

“Hey, don’t.” You say quietly, already fully aware of the awful things he must be saying to himself right now in his head.

He squeezes his eyes closed, no longer able to look at you or the scar he left on you.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, the pain oozing from his tone.

“It’s okay.” You whisper back.

“No.” He croaks, opening his eyes to look into yours. “No, it’s not. Getting you back, it felt so damn good that I almost let myself forget exactly why you were gone in the first place.”

“Dean, stop.” You utter.

“I don’t deserve you.” He says, shaking his head as he does. “I mean, I never deserved you. But especially now.” He furrows his brows as his pained eyes look into yours.

“Dean-" You begin, but he cuts you off.

“No, Y/N, how can you even look at me, huh?! The… the things that I’ve done. Everything I’ve done to you. Since the very beginning. How can you stand to look at me? Let alone touch me, kiss me-"

“Because I love you, god dammit!” You shout, cutting him off and surprising him. His eyes go slightly wide at the ferocity of your tone. “Don’t you get that by now?”

You bring one hand up and place it gently on his face, and he closes his eyes and leans into your touch. He opens his eyes again and you maintain your strong gaze as you go on.

“I love you, Dean. And you have to stop this. I get that self-loathing is a core part of your being, but not anymore. At least not when it comes to me. I’m over that. And I’m not allowing it. Because it wasn’t your fault. Any of it.”

He just looks back at you, clearly speechless. Which is good. Because you’re not done.

“I made my choices. You know I always do. And I knew what the consequences would be. That was MY choice. Not yours. And I’d do it again, if it meant saving you and Sammy.”

He furrows his brows once more and looks down, and you can tell the guilt is still eating away at him, despite your words. You suddenly grab his hand and press it down flat against you, right over the scar on your chest, which takes him by surprise.

“Don’t focus on the scar.” You say. “Focus on what you feel.”

He looks down at his hand on your chest, and you watch as the tension begins to leave his body and he focuses on the feeling of your heart beating against his palm.

“Feel that? It means I’m alive.” You state. “It means I’m back. And this time, I’m staying. Because we’re gonna hold on. Both of us. To each other, and to what we have. I’ll hold on to you if you hold on to me, okay?”

He studies you intently, and for a few seconds you’re not sure if your words were enough. But then, his beautiful lips begin to curl into that signature smile.

“Okay.” He rasps, his thick eyelashes flicking back and forth as his green eyes study your face.

You smile back, rolling on top of him suddenly and kissing him as you do.

“Great, so are we done with the drama for now?” You smirk down at him, your face only inches from his.

He chuckles, gazing at you lovingly.

“Yeah, I guess we are, Gorgeous.”

“Awesome,” You say, “Because I need a shower and some breakfast.”

With that, you smirk and roll off of him, getting up out of bed and pulling his t-shirt on over your head.

He shakes his head in wonder as he watches you.

“God damn,” He drawls, “I almost forgot how amazing it is to watch you pull my t-shirt on like that.”

“Oh yeah?” You smirk, raising an eyebrow at him. “Come join me in the shower and I’ll remind you how amazing it is to watch me take your t-shirt off, too.”

He raises his eyebrows back, and you watch as he bites his bottom lip.

“Now that is an invitation I won’t ever refuse.” He says, grinning cockily as he gets up from his bed, pulls on a pair of sweatpants, and picks you up, carrying you all the way down the hall to the showers.

After a much needed – and undeniably steamy – shower, you and Dean get dressed and head to the kitchen together. As usual, Sam is already there, drinking his coffee and scrolling on his laptop. He looks up and grins at the two of you when you enter, and you can see the joy on his face. As if seeing you both this morning solidified the fact that you two really are back and okay, and that it wasn’t just a dream.

“How you two doin’?” He asks, looking between the two of you.

You and Dean glance at each other with a grin before looking back at Sam.

“Great, Sam.” You say, looking at him earnestly. “Thanks.”

“That’s great.” He responds, before suddenly looking down and clearing his throat. “Then, uh… I guess now might be a good time to tell you both about the prisoner I’ve got chained up in the dungeon.”

He squints slightly as he looks back up at the two of you in insecurity, waiting for the inevitable reaction.

“The what?” Dean asks, raising his eyebrows and taking a step toward his brother.

“Who is it?” You demand, glaring at Sam.

“It’s, uh… it’s Metatron.” He answers cautiously.

“What?!” You shout as your eyes go wide. “I thought he was locked up in Heaven!”

“Well, he got out.” Sam explains. “Cass had a lead and we went after him. Dean didn’t come with us because he was too…” Sam looks down, recalling how depressed his brother was without you.

You glance quickly at Dean and see him swallowing hard before you turn your attention back to Sam, allowing him to continue to explain himself.

“When Cass and I got him back, we locked him up right away and then I went looking for Dean and that’s when… that’s when I realized he was missing. Metatron’s been locked in the dungeon for the last couple days while we were looking for Dean.”

“Sam,” Dean growls, “Why the HELL didn’t you tell us this?”

“I just found out you were alive! Both of you!” He looks at you. “I… I just wanted to enjoy it. And I wanted both of you to enjoy it.”

His eyes are pleading, and you and Dean can both see it. You see Dean soften, and you soften as well, understanding where Sam is coming from.

“Okay, Sammy. Alright. I get it.” Dean says, reassuring his brother with an understanding look.

You see the relief on Sam’s face as he continues once more.

“Cass and I thought at the very least we could get revenge for what he did to Dean, and then as soon as we got him here, he started talking about how he might have a way to bring you back.” Sam nods at you when he says this.

You chuckle.

“That douchebag always needs a bargaining chip.” You look between the boys as a smirk crosses your face. “And right now he thinks I’m it.”

Dean smiles back at you mischievously. “Well, this oughta be fun, then.”

A few minutes later, Sam and Dean head into the dungeon, where Metatron is still firmly chained down to his chair. His face lights up when he sees the boys.

“Ah, there you are! I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about little old me.” He mocks, before turning his attention specifically to Dean.

“Dean.” His smile widens further. “Look at you. It’s been awhile. You’re looking well. Well, better than the last time our paths crossed at least.” He continues smiling, shooting Dean a knowing look. “How are you?”

Dean just crosses his arms as he silently glares down at Metatron, he and Sam now only a few feet in front of him.

“Oh, that’s right.” He pouts, mocking sadness as he continues looking at Dean. “I guess you’re not doing so well, are you? What with the loss of poor Y/N. You must still be quite broken up about that. As I told Sam, I never met her but I had heard she was special. I mean, the big guy had me write about how special she was, in fact. I truly am… so sorry.” He continues looking at Dean, an antagonizing smirk on his face the whole time.

“Oh, but don’t worry, Dean! I may have a way to help you. To bring her back. I am the Scribe of God after all. There are a lot of secrets in this brain. I’ll just… need some things in return, of course. Quid pro quo and all that.”

He continues smiling at the boys cockily. Then, Dean’s focused glare fades as a smile crosses his face. Metatron furrows his brows in confusion as he watches Dean’s change of expression.

Then, you walk in.

You walk up to the three of them slowly, smiling at Dean as you walk past him, stopping just a couple feet in front of Metatron. Metatron looks up at you, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, but doesn’t say a word. You glare down at him with a smirk before leaning forward slightly, narrowing your eyes.

“Hi, Metatron. We’ve never met. Name’s Y/N.”

He continues staring at you, wide-eyed.

“But… I…” He stutters.

“You what?” You ask. “You have nothing left to manipulate the boys with, now that I’m back? Aw, how sad for you.” You say with the same mock-pout he had just been using to taunt the boys.

Without warning, you reel back and bring your fist forward quickly, slamming it against his cheek. His head flies back and he groans out in surprise and pain, and before he has a chance to recover, you hit him again.

“New deal.” You state, picking up an angel blade from the tray next to you. “How about… I torture you nice and slow for killing my boyfriend, huh?”

“You wouldn’t.” He whispers, the fear evident all over his face.

You chuckle, looking over your shoulder briefly to smile at the boys before turning back around to look down at Metatron.

“You wanna bet?” You whisper as you begin to lift the blade towards his face.

“Y/N, wait.” The familiar deep voice sounds from behind you and the boys.

You turn around to look at Cass, and find him watching you intently, his gaze serious and focused.

“I, uh… I need to speak with you.” He says, looking between you and the boys. “All three of you. Please.”

He glances at the knife in your hand, then back to your face. You place the knife back down on the tray as you look at Cass. You’re confused, but you trust him.

“Yeah.” You say. “Okay Cass, let’s go.” You nod at the boys and the three of you begin to follow Cass out of the dungeon. You stop, turning around and pointing at Metatron, a nervous look still on his face.

“I’ll be back.” You promise, glaring at him once more before following the boys out of the room.

You all follow Cass to the library, and Dean finally speaks up.

“What’s goin’ on, Cass?”

Cass sighs. “You can’t kill Metatron. At least not yet.”

“Why not?” You ask.

Cass looks at you seriously.

“Because he may know where my grace is.”

“Wait, your grace?!” Sam asks. “You mean there’s some left?”

“Yes,” Cass nods. “I believe so. I… I can sense it. I believe he may have hidden it somewhere.”

“Great, so he’s got a bargaining chip after all. Man, screw that guy.” Dean groans.

Cass looks visibly shaken by this, as if he feels guilty for being the bargaining chip this time.

“Hey, Cass, don’t worry, okay?” You say, looking deep into his eyes. “If he does have it hidden somewhere, we’ll get it out of him. It’s about damn time you got your mojo back.”

You smile at him as you say it, and he smiles back and you can see him visibly relax, until something else clearly crosses his mind.

“There’s… something else he may prove useful for.” Cass says.

“What’s that?” You ask.

“A way to stop the Devil.” Cass states.

Your eyes go wide, and you and the boys look at each other, the surprise evident on your faces.

“What do you mean, Cass?” Dean asks.

“Well, last time Lucifer escaped, we used the Horsemen’s rings to open the door again and send him back. This time, we don’t have the rings. But… as the Scribe of God, it’s possible Metatron may know of some other spell that could open the door instead. He did say he had heard of you, that God had him write scripture about you being the lock on the cage. Maybe God also had him write about what could be done in the event that the lock was broken. If we are able to get a spell like that, maybe we could lock Lucifer up again.”

You’re all silent for a few seconds as Cass’ words sink in.

“Yeah, but last time he was also after Sammy as his vessel.” Dean speaks up. “Sam literally jumping in was the only way we could get him in there, and even THAT barely worked. And we don’t have that advantage this time.”

"Yeah, plus we don't even know where he is." Sam adds.

Cass sighs. “I know. There are many factors that make this plan seem… well, nearly impossible.”

Dean throws his hands up and looks up at the sky in frustration, and Sam just rolls his eyes.

“But it is a plan.” You say quietly, leading all three boys to look at you suddenly.

“What?” Dean asks.

“It is a plan.” You repeat. “It’s something. I mean, it’s not like we’ve got anything else right now. We can at least find out if Metatron does know a spell. Then we go from there.” You look at Sam and Dean intently.

“Because I, for one, would love to be the one to throw that son of a bitch back down into the pit where he belongs.” You smirk playfully, and they both smile back, your determination all it takes to get them on board with this plan.

“Well, I second that notion, Sweetheart.” Dean drawls.

“Yeah. Same here. I’d love to throw him back down and not have to join him this time.” Sam scoffs.

“So,” You say, looking around at all three of them. “Let’s go get our info. Metatron’s got some torture coming and I need the work out. I mean, I’ve been gone for four months, I can’t let myself get rusty.”

You wink at Dean, and he grins back at you, looking you up and down in admiration and what looks like just a hint of lust.

“Well, lead the way, Sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Stay healthy friends.


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will the reader be able to get the information needed from Metatron?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> As has become the new normal, I'm wishing everyone extra health and safety out there!
> 
> It's still so crazy to me that you've stuck with me and with this story for this long, and that I believe we may finally be coming close to an ending.
> 
> Not yet, but it's in the works.
> 
> I appreciate you all SO much, and I hope you enjoy.

You begin to head into the dungeon, and Dean follows behind you. You stop in the doorway and turn to face him.

“I got this.” You say.

He furrows his brows.

“What do you mean ‘you got this’? Don’t WE got this?” He asks.

You smile, patting him on the chest and gazing up into his eyes.

“Believe me, tough guy. There is nothing I’d love more than to go at this son of a bitch with you. We all know you of all people deserve a shot at him.” Your voice is calm and soothing, “But…”

You reach out and gently run your thumb along the Mark. He looks down at it, realization sweeping his features.

“But I haven’t forgotten about this thing.” You state, your eyes once again connecting with his. “And I’m not taking any chances.”

He’s hard to read for a few seconds, his face and body tense. But at he looks into your eyes and sees the sincerity and concern all over your face, he softens, sighing heavily.

“Alright.” He says, clearly disappointed.

You can’t help but smile at the pout he probably doesn’t even realize he has on his face.

“Hey,” You whisper, bringing your face even closer to his. “I promise I’ll do you proud in there.”

Your lips are nearly brushing his, and that’s all that it takes for his pout to dissolve into a smile. He kisses you softly, before pulling back and studying your face.

“Oh, I have no doubt about that, Sweetheart.” He smiles at you once more and you shoot him a wink right before you close the dungeon door behind you.

You stride up to Metatron, only to find him once again wearing his cocky smile. You glare at him, frustrated that he’s now needed for information - and once again has a bargaining chip.

“That look on your face…” He begins, “Well, it tells me that maybe you need me more than you first thought after all.”

The smugness all over his face makes you want to pick a blade up and end this all right now. But you know you need to maintain control.

“What can I do for you, Y/N?” He asks. “Name it. I’d be happy to oblige.”

“Oh, I bet you would.” You retort.

“Well, don’t forget I CHOSE to come here. I surrendered myself to Sam and Castiel! Why would I do that, if I didn’t want to help?”

“Is there a spell that can open the door to Lucifer’s cage?” You ask, emotionless.

Your question clearly takes him by surprise, and he raises his eyebrows, looking you up and down, almost as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re serious.

He exhales a sharp chuckle. “That’s what you want from me?” He asks, still in disbelief. “You think you, the Winchesters, and a broken angel can somehow force Lucifer back into his cage? Again?!” He laughs as he asks the question.

“I didn’t hear an answer.” You state, taking a step toward him. “Is there a spell, or not?”

“It’s a suicide mission.” He scoffs once more. “You’d never pull it off.”

Without warning, you punch him in the face. He shouts out in surprise and his head goes flying back, but you grab him by the chin, leaning down and quickly pulling his face forward as his nose begins to bleed.

“You’re really not getting this whole question and answer thing, are you?” You ask, staring intensely at him.

“Agh! Yes, alright. Yes, there is a spell.” He groans out as he blinks hard.

You release his face and stand up.

“Great.” You say. “Well, if you want to help so badly, tell me what it is.”

He looks at you for a few seconds before his smile once again returns.

“Of course. Gladly. I will share all the knowledge that I have. And I do have plenty.”

You continue to glare at him, your annoyance already overwhelming you, and he just goes on.

“But, I will, of course, need something in return. I’m sure you understand. I know that if we put our heads together, we can come up with a solution that will leave us all thoroughly satisfied.” He smiles up at you, clearly thrilled with himself, as if this is all just a chess game and he’s sure he’s going to win. It’s clear to you that he thinks he’s much smarter than you and the boys. That there’s no question in his mind that he will be able to manipulate you however he wants, now that he has information that you need.

Suddenly, your intense and angry gaze fades and a smile forms in its place, which clearly unsettles him. His own smile fades slightly as he looks at your face, and you just chuckle softly.

“No, see… that’s just not how this is gonna go.” You state, now the confident one. “I bet you’re used to that, huh? Being the smartest person in the room. Knowing how to manipulate everyone around you to always end up on top.” You look him up and down as you assess him, and you can see his confidence fading with every word from your lips.  
“I’m sick and tired of compromising. I’m sick and tired of making deals with douche bags like you.” You take another step toward him, reaching over and picking an angel blade up off the tray next to you as you do.

“And you can sit there, and pretend you’re not scared of my blade here, but I know you are. I see the way you look at the Winchesters. You’re scared of then. Sure, you may think you’re smarter than them, but you damn sure know you’re not stronger. And at the end of the day, Metatron, you’re all about self-preservation.” You take another step forward, placing the tip of the blade just below his chin.

“So, how about you preserve yourself, and start thinking about telling me what I wanna know. Because if you’re as scared of the Winchesters as I think you are, then you should absolutely be scared of me.”

His eyes are wide, and he swallows hard, glancing down at the blade before looking back up at you, but he doesn’t say anything.

You smile again.

“Alright, so I guess we’re doing this.” 

After hearing Metatron’s screams and groans for over an hour, the boys finally decide to come in to the dungeon to check on you.

They raise their eyebrows as they see Metatron, blood-soaked, panting, his smug smile thoroughly removed from his face – and you, not even having broken a sweat.

“Ah, hey guys,” You state with a smile, “You’re actually just in time.”

They look from you, down to Metatron’s heaving frame, then back to you.

You look at Cass and wink at him before once again turning around to face Metatron.

“So, here’s the deal. As a good faith gesture, you’re gonna tell me where Cass’ grace is. Right now. And if you tell the truth, then maybe I’ll let you live long enough to tell us about this spell.”

He coughs, spitting out some blood, before glaring up at the boys, and then to you.

You wouldn’t kill me. You can’t. You need that spell. Killing me would be stupid and reckless. Why don’t we talk about my terms again instead?” He croaks, knowing better than to dare smile at you as he says it.

You just smile. First at him, then at the boys. They all look back at you knowingly, and you just turn back to Metatron.

“Oh buddy, you don’t know me.” You whisper, leaning down so that you’re face to face with him. “Being reckless - kinda what I’m known for. And you killed the man I love. So I DARE you to look me in the eyes, and try to tell me that I don’t mean it when I say I’d risk losing out on this spell just so I can watch the look on your face when you die.”

The whole room is silent. He just stares at you, speechless. You watch as he goes over his options in his head, and as he realizes he truly doesn’t have any. He swallows hard, the fear evident all over his face. Finally, he speaks.

“Castiel’s grace is in a library in Seattle. In a book in the romance novel section.”

“Of course it is.” Dean groans.

You stand up, turning to look at Castiel.

“Well, you heard him, Cass.” You grin at him, “Go get what’s yours.”

Cass nods at you, a hopefulness in his features, and then disappears.

You turn back to look at Metatron once more.

“Great. He comes back with his grace, and we’ll talk about the rest of MY terms. Got it?”

Metatron just glares at you, but there’s a fear still obvious in his eyes. With that, you turn and smile at the boys confidently, before striding out of the dungeon with them close behind.

When you get to the library, you see Dean eyeing you up and down with admiration.

“God damn, Gorgeous…” He breathes, still studying you.

“Yeah, that was… impressive.” Sam chimes in.

“The dick had it coming. And you guys,” You say, pointing and smiling at them, “Have got some beers coming.”

With that, you turn and head to the kitchen to get a round for all of you. Dean continues watching you, an impressed smile still on his face.

He gestures toward you and then looks at Sam.

“Dream girl, Sammy. Dream girl.”

Sam just laughs, and the two of them sit down at the library table. A few seconds later, you return with the beers, taking your own seat at the end of the table.

You spend the next couple hours looking for signs of Lucifer. You all scour the internet and databases, looking for any signs that might point to him. Omens, weather, even anything that might resemble demon activity.

But you come up with nothing.

Dean slams his laptop closed in frustration.

“Nothing. I got jack friggin’ squat.” He huffs.

“Yeah, same here.” Sam agrees, closing his laptop as well.

“It makes sense.” You say. “If he’s planning something big, he isn’t gonna want us to know about it. At least not yet. We’ll just have to keep looking.”

“Yeah, well, not tonight.” Dean states, clearly defeated.

“Yeah, my eyes are starting to hurt.” Sam says. “I’m checking out.”

With that, he stands and grabs his laptop, heading toward his room.

“Night, guys!” He calls as he heads down the hallway.

“Night, Sammy.” You and Dean call back.

You look at Dean, the frustration still all over his face.

“Hey,” You say, “Knock it off, grumpy.”

He doesn’t look at you, just stares down at his own hands on the table.

You look at him a bit longer, trying to figure out how to drag him out of his own head and bring him back you. Because right now, all you want is to see that damn smile.  
And then it dawns on you.

You grin, standing and grabbing his hand, pulling him to his feet as well.

“Come on.” You utter.

“Where are we going?” He asks, confused.

“Just come on.” You smile at him, and that’s all it takes to get him to obey you.

You lead him down the hall to the TV room, pushing him down on to the couch.

“What are we doing?” He asks, his eyebrows raised.

“Leatherface. That’s what.” You quip. “We watched that first Chainsaw Massacre so long ago, remember? Do you have any idea how many sequels there are?” You ask with a smirk.  
He grins back, and you feel your heart flutter.

“You put on the movie. I’ll be right back.” You instruct.

“Yes ma’am.” He responds with a smile, looking entirely entranced by you.

You head to your room and change into shorts and a tank top – decidedly picking your shortest shorts and most low cut top. If there’s any way to keep that smile on Dean’s face, you know this is it. Then, you grab another couple of beers from the kitchen and head back to the TV room. Dean hears you come in, but doesn’t look at you right away, instead focused on queuing up the movie.

“Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2. Ready to go.” He says, as he turns to look at you. And when he sees you, you watch his eyes go wide and see him tense up immediately. His eyes rake up and down your body before landing back on your face.

You just smile at him as you walk toward him and hand him a beer. He just continues staring at you from his seat at the end of the couch. You sit down as well, your back against the opposite arm of the chair, your legs outstretched in front of you, the tips of your toes just hardly touching the side of his thigh.

“Well, are you gonna start it?” You ask, raising your eyebrows at him.

He snaps his gaze away from your body, clears his throat, and presses play. 

The two of you actually watch the first 10 minutes or so of the movie. But the longer the movie goes on, the more distracted you both clearly are by each other. You steal glances at each other while the other is looking at the screen. You feel his eyes on you, looking you up and down. And when he looks away, you can’t help but stare at him as well.

You admire the way his lips wrap around the tip of his beer bottle and the way his jaw moves when he swallows. You always have admired that jaw. You rake your eyes over his t-shirt and flannel covered chest and arms, and your heart starts to beat a little faster when you do.

You both continue this way for another few minutes, the silent sexual tension building in the air. Eventually, you find yourself outstretching your legs, your feet winding up in his lap.

“If I remember correctly, my legs ended up just like this last time, too.” You say, finally breaking the silence.

He turns to look at you, and you just stare back, a glint of mischief in your eyes. He just looks at your feet in his lap, before raking his eyes slowly all the way up your long legs. The heat of his gaze suddenly makes you realize how aroused you are.

“And, if I remember correctly,” He rasps, his intense green eyes now boring into yours, “You needed me to heat you up.”

The way he says it sends a chill up your spine, which is only deepened by the way he begins to rub his palm slowly up and down your bare legs. The feeling of his calloused skin against you only arouses you further, and you realize you’ve been watching his hand as he trails it up and down your leg.

Your gaze snaps to meet his, and you see that he’s now the one with the mischievous smirk. The playfulness between the two of you is intoxicating, neither of you wanting to be the one to break first, yet both of you knowing exactly what’s going to happen.

“I think it might take a little more than that to heat me up this time.” You coo, the seduction dripping from your tone.

He raises his eyebrows and licks his lips as he gradually brings his hand further and further up your leg.

“Oh yeah?” He asks, “What’s it gonna take?”

You smirk at him and bite your lip before answering.

“Oh come on, tough guy. If you can’t figure it out then I might just have to do it myself.”

He smirks slightly, a deviant sparkle in his eye, before he suddenly hooks his hand under the back of your knee, quickly dragging you forward so that you’re lying on your back and bringing his own body forward so that he’s now on top of you.

Your surprise melts into another playful smile as you look at him directly above you, and he just grins back down at you before bringing his mouth down onto yours.

You close your eyes and inhale deeply when his lips touch yours, and then you kiss him back fervently. The feeling of him on top of you, your tongues dipping and lips pressing, never fails to give you goosebumps.

You snake your arms around his broad shoulders, pushing his flannel off of him as you do, and his large hands hold onto either side of your face as he kisses you. Slowly, he trails a hand down your neck, over your chest, and down to the bottom of your top. He grasps it and pulls it up and off of you with ease, revealing your bare upper half to him.

He gazes down at you in wonder, letting out a long breath as he does. He licks his lips and looks into your eyes briefly once more before bringing his mouth down onto your left nipple. Your body jumps at the immediate pleasure his tongue brings to your sensitive nipple, and you moan softly as he flicks his tongue up and down.

You grab handfuls of his hair as he plays with you, and every moan you let out elicits a deep, lustful growl from his own throat. He sucks just slightly harder, and it pulls a louder and more desperate moan from your lips. That moan alone clearly overwhelms him, and he pulls himself from your nipple, looking down at you with completely lust-blown and desperate eyes.

The desire in his green orbs sends another chill through you, and you quickly reach for the bottom of his t-shirt, pulling it off of him and admiring his bare chest as it heaves with need above you. He reaches down and grabs your shorts, yanking them off roughly at the same time you quickly unbutton his jeans. You exchange looks of pure desire, both of you aware in this moment that you need the exact same thing.

And you need it right now.

He shoves his jeans and boxers down, lining himself up with your soaking entrance. His bright green eyes connect with your sparkling Y/E/C ones, and in that instant he pushes himself inside you. You moan out in bliss as he takes his time, filling you up slowly. His squeezes his eyes closed and growls as the feeling overwhelms him.

Then, he opens his eyes and looks down at you once more as he slowly pulls out and pushes in again. You moan out his name and this leads him to grip your thigh tightly, pulling your leg and wrapping it tightly around his side. His other hand comes down and grips the side of your face, his thumb brushing against your lips.

The pleasure is immense each time he snaps his hips and fills you up, hitting your sweet spot each and every time he does. Unable to control your own pleasure, you open your mouth further and suck his thumb in between your lips, licking and sucking on it as you moan with each thrust.

When you do, he groans out in ecstasy, his eyes rolling back in arousal as he begins to pick up his pace. When he does, the pleasure surges through you even more and your hands fly around his shoulders, your nails digging into his back.

As his hips snap, faster and faster, and you begin to clench around him, you look at each other, the lust and pure need evident on both of your faces. It’s clear that neither of you can wait any longer, and at the perfect second he snaps forward, completely burying himself in you, and your orgasms explode at once. He releases a breathless moan, gripping you even tighter, and you whine out as well as the feeling ripples through your body.

He pushes in and out a few more times, both of you shaking and breathless as the waves of your orgasms wash over you and lull you into peace. Finally, he collapses next you, pulling you into his body as the two of you pant and your chests heave.

You lay there, just looking at each other, both of you in silent awe of the feelings you create in one another. Suddenly, you notice Dean’s expression change as he glances down at the Mark on the arm that is now draped over your bare chest.

“Hey, what is it?” You ask, now worried.

“I don’t feel it.” He mumbles.

“What?”

“I… don’t feel it.” He repeats, still gazing at the Mark. “I haven’t, not since you’ve been back. I mean, I hardly even notice it on my arm. I don’t feel the anger. The rage.”

You just look at him in disbelief as you take in everything he’s saying.

“How… how is that possible?” You ask, still breathless.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he does.

“How do you think?” He asks quietly, still looking at his arm.

You just look at him, confused.

Finally, he looks up at you, and his emotional green eyes connect with yours.

“It’s you.” He breathes.

His words make your heart jump, and you just look at him, speechless.

“When I lost you,” He explains, “I felt the anger, I did. I was so broken it didn’t mean anything, but that anger was there. But the... the second I got you back, everything changed. I mean the Mark is still there, and it’s still gotta go at some point, I know that. I ain’t that naïve. But... I feel it less than I ever have. Less than I did even when I first met you. Losin’ you and gettin’ you back, that changed me in a way nothin’ else ever has.”

He looks back down his arm, deep in thought, and licks his lips before looking back into your eyes.

“I swear, you’re my god damn medicine, Y/N. You.... you make me better.”

For a few seconds, you’re still speechless. Yet, you feel the relief washing over you. The fact that he’s okay, that he truly feels okay, is amazing. Even if it’s just for now.  
Slowly, a smirk forms on your lips.

“Well, handsome, that is just about the sweetest… and corniest thing I think I have ever heard.” You coo.

He looks at you sheepishly for a few seconds before a smile bursts across his face and he lets out a chuckle.

“Yeah, well, what can I say, Sweetheart? You’ve made me soft.” He smirks with the raise of an eyebrow.

You take his face in your hands and grin.

“I could say the same to you, Winchester.”

You study each other, thoughtfully and peacefully for a few long seconds, before you speak up again.

“You want a taste of this medicine right now?” You jest.

He laughs once more before looking down at your lips.

“Hell yes.” He rasps.

You pull his face into yours, and he kisses you deeply and slowly before pulling you even more tightly into his chest. You close your eyes and inhale deeply at the comfort only this position can bring to you. And before you know it, the two of you are breathing steadily and drifting off to sleep.

And then you wake up.

But you’re not with Dean.

You’re not in the TV room.

You’re in the same small room you were in when Lucifer had you.

You sit up abruptly, looking around in a panic.

“Oh, don’t worry, Y/N.” You hear him from the corner of the room. “I’m just visiting.”

You turn to look at him, and it’s then that you realize the unnatural feeling of your surroundings.

“I’m dreaming.” You breathe.

“That’s right.” He says with a smile, pushing himself off the wall and walking toward you.

“I just wanted to talk.” He says. “And now that you’ve run off with lover boy again, you’ve made that a little bit difficult, haven’t you?”

“You still can’t find us.” You utter, already noting the frustration on his face.

“No, I can’t.” He states, and you can’t deny the relief that floods through you.

But then, his eyes narrow and the intimidating determination is all over his face.

“But I will.” He growls.

You don’t let him see the concern that bubbles in your chest, but you sure as Hell feel it.

“I mean, come on, you’ve gotta know that, Y/N!” His seriousness fades as he says it, as if he’s talking to an old friend.

“You know me,” He says, “I am nothing if not determined.”

“Oh, I don’t know Lucy, I’d say you are a whole lotta things.” You sneer.

He just stares at you for a few seconds.

“Oh, that wit. I’m missing it already!” He exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. “I told you, Y/N. You help me out, you let me know where yours and the Winchester’s little hideout is, it will make everything a whole lot easier on you.”

You just roll your eyes, but he goes on.

“And on the Winchesters.”

You narrow your eyes and glare at him, instantly enraged by his veiled threat against the boys.

“Right.” You scoff, “Because I’m sure if I give it up, you’ll just let us live happily ever after.”

He raises his eyebrows and wags a finger at you.

“Well, you do know me better than that.”

You just continue glaring at him.

“No,” He sighs, “No, I won’t. BUT when I do find you, I promise I’ll kill the boys quickly.

“Oh, how kind of you.” You mock.

“But if you don’t give yourselves up,” He continues, ignoring your attitude, “Then when I do find you, I’ll kill them slowly. I’ll crush them. Fillet them. Bring their insides to the outside. The whole shebang. And you’ll watch.”

He narrows his eyes at you, and the look he gives you make your blood run cold.

"Right, well, you can eat me." You spit back, a defiant smirk on your lips.

He sighs once more.

“An unfortunate - but expected - response. But see, I’m no fool, Y/N. I bet you’re making plans right now, trying to figure out how to send me back downstairs, right? Well, I might not be able to find you right now, but I will. And you know what’s great? Deep down, you know I will. No amount of warding or hiding will stop me. This connection between us, this unholy bond my dad created when he made you the seal to my cage, it’s gonna lead me right to you. Eventually.”

You don’t answer him. You just glare at him, trying to hold onto your defiance, despite the concern his words elicit.

“And when I find you, you’re going to wish you had taken all these chances I’m giving you. Because those boys, they’re gonna suffer. And it’ll be all thanks to you.”

He leans even closer, and a sinister smile creeps onto his face.

“See you soon, Y/N.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!!!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> See you soon.


	49. Chapter 49

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will the Reader and the boys be able to get the spell they need to send Lucifer back into the cage?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> It's super late and I'm super exhausted but I love writing this story and I love you so I just had to post tonight (or this morning? What time is it, anyway?)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

When you wake up that morning, you don’t tell Dean about your dream.

Part of you is still telling yourself it was nothing more than a regular nightmare, albeit a very realistic one.

The other part of you – the part that truly knows it wasn’t just a nightmare at all – doesn’t want to talk about it yet. You’ve all got enough going on, and telling the boys this now, it’ll only stress them out more.

The important thing now, you tell yourself, is to get this plan in motion. That way if and when Lucifer does find you, you’ll be ready.

You, Sam, and Dean are eating breakfast in the kitchen was a familiar gust of wind blows through the room, and Cass is suddenly standing at the end of the table.

You all look at him, studying him silently for a few brief seconds, trying to determine just by looking at him whether or not he was successful in finding his grace.

And you can tell right away, he was.

“Hey, Cass, you look great!” Sam exclaims.

Dean nods in agreement as he struggles to swallow his mouthful of food so that he can speak.

“Yeah,” He says as he finally swallows his food, “Looks like somebody’s all juiced up again, huh?

Cass nods.

“I did locate my grace. I feel…” He finally allows himself to smile, “Much better.”

You smile up at him, your heart full at the sight of him finally strong and whole again.

He looks down at you, a grateful look on his face.

“Thank you, Y/N. If you hadn’t gotten Metatron to talk, I’m not sure I ever would have been reunited with my grace.”

You just chuckle.

“Ah, nonsense, Cass! You and Sam did all the work getting him here in the first place. All I did was slap him around and stick him with something pointy. Anyone coulda done it.”

“But… you did it,” He insists, looking at you with utter sincerity, “So, thank you.”

You smile at him. “You’re welcome, buddy.”

“Well, this is a good thing on a lot of levels, right?” Sam says. “I mean you’re strong again, that’ll be useful again Lucifer. And, we know this means Metatron was telling the truth.  
Maybe he’ll actually tell the truth about the spell, too.”

“Well, truthfully,” Cass explains, “Even at my strongest I am no match against Lucifer. If he were to attack, I’d be practically as useless as you humans would be.”

Dean’s expression drops and he eyes Cass in annoyance.

“Gee, thanks, Cass.” He mutters.

“But you may be right about Metatron. It’s possible that if he was willing to give up the location of my grace, he may be willing to tell us about the spell.”

“Well,” You state, sipping the last of your coffee and standing up, “Guess it’s time to go pay him another visit, then.”

You all head into the dungeon, and find Metatron looking weak and exhausted. He lifts his head slowly to look at you.

“Well, look at that, you came through.” You say, picking up your blade once more. “Cass’ grace was where you said it would be.”

“Yes, I did.” He groans. “See? You can trust me. So really, there’s no need for all this animosity.”

You chuckle, then lunge forward, pressing your blade against his throat.

“Did I mention that time you killed my man? Did you forget about that? Or how about when you cut Cass’ throat and bled him dry of all his grace, hm? Or locked everyone out of Heaven because for some insane reason you actually thought you had the balls to run the place?”

You hear Dean let out a chuckle behind you, and you know he’s always admired the way your insults cut quick and deep.

Metatron just looks at you, looking almost surprised and insulted.

“Yes! Okay? Yes, I remember those things. I did do some… malevolent things in a time of great personal stress and a search for self-discovery!”

You don’t see it, but you’re certain all three boys are rolling their eyes behind you right now.

“But… but that’s all changed.” Metatron goes on. “I did kill Dean, yes, but now he’s alive! I stole Castiel’s grace but I just gave it back! And Heaven’s doors are open once more. All of my… mistakes… have been remedied! So, can’t we all just let it go and move on?”

You scoff.

“Yeah, we can move on when you tell me about this spell.”

Metatron just glares at you.

“No.” He says quietly.

You narrow your eyes at him, pressing the blade a little harder against his throat.

“What did you just say?”

“You heard me.” You can hear the shakiness in his tone as he repeats himself. “I said no. Look, if I don’t tell you, you’ll kill me, I get that. But if I DO tell you, what guarantee do I have that you won’t still kill me? All I’m asking for in exchange for the spell is an escape from the angels. Okay? Just a-a few bucks, a car, and for you to let me go!”

You glance briefly at the boys, but you don’t take your blade away from Metatron’s throat.

“I don’t think you should be so worried about dying after you give us the information. I think you should be more worried about what I do to you before you die if you DON’T give us the information.” You sneer.

You lift your knife, preparing to bring it back down, when you hear Sam clear his throat and speak up behind you.

“Uh, Y/N?”

You pause, turning around to look at him.

“Can we, uh, can we all just talk real quick outside?” Sam asks.

You look at him, then Dean, then Cass, then back to Sam.

“Yeah,” You say, “Yeah, of course, Sammy.”

You put your blade down and follow the boys out of the dungeon, closing the door behind you. When you look at Sam, you see his brow-furrowed puppy dog look that he always gives you when he’s about to say something you don’t wanna hear.

“What is it?” You ask, already frustrated.

“I think… maybe… we should consider giving him what he wants.” He says quietly.

“What?!” You and Dean both exclaim at the same time.

“Sam, are you crazy?” Dean demands. “The dude literally shoved an angel blade through my chest. He sliced Cass’ throat! And you wanna let him waltz right outta here?”

Sam sighs.

“Look, I know what he did, okay? Don’t forget, I’m the one who watched him kill you. I hate him too. But… he’s harmless right now. Powerless. And he has information we really, really need.”

“Yeah, information that I know EXACTLY how to get out of him!” You respond.

“I know.” Sam says. “I know you do. But that’ll take – what? At least another few hours if we’re lucky? He’s not gonna just give the info up right away. We make this deal with him now, that saves us time. Time that we might not have. We have no idea when Lucifer might find this place and show up. We need the spell. Now.”

You and Dean exchange looks, both of you clearly frustrated by Sam’s logic. You look at Cass, and although you know he hates Metatron as well, it’s clear by the look on his face that he agrees with Sam.

“Dammit.” Dean groans, admitting defeat.

“Fine.” You sigh. “But you can be the one to tell him the good news. If I have to do it and he makes some comment, I’ll probably just stab him.”

Dean smirks slightly at you when you say it.

“Sure, of course.” Sam says. “I can do that.”

The four of you head back into the dungeon, and this time Sam is the one who takes a few steps closer to Metatron.

“Alright, look, Metatron. We’ll accept your little deal, okay? We’ll let you go, let you find some fresh start or whatever crap you plan to do, but only if you give us the whole spell. Tell us how it works, all the ingredients, and how to do it. And you don’t get ANYTHING until after I do a little research on the info you give us to see if I can find anything to back it up. Got it?”

Metatron looks at Sam, wide-eyed, clearly surprised at this offer. Then, he looks at you.

You cross your arms and glare at him, your jaw clenched and your face dark.

And of course, a small, satisfied smirk crosses his lips. And you feel yourself preparing to lunge at him.

But then, Dean puts his hand gently on your back. And when you turn to look at him, those green eyes pierce right through you and calm you instantly. You smile subtly at him, then turn back to Metatron.

“Deal’s on the table for another 30 seconds and then we go back to doing thing’s my way.” You state.

You see a tinge of fear cross Metatron’s features, and he turns back to look at Sam once more.

“Fine. Deal.” He looks around at all of you, and you all just raise your eyebrows at him, making it clear he better continue.

He sighs, then goes on.

“There is a spell. One that God created in the event that you broke.” He glances at you. “One that opens the door to the cage long enough to put Lucifer back in. But the ingredients are not easy to come by.”

“Name them.” Cass says. “I can get them.”

“Oh, well look at you, Castiel. All bright and shiny once again with that restored grace. Ready to take on any challenge in front of you.” Metatron mocks.

“He said name them.” Dean growls.

Metatron lists all the ingredients, and Cass just nods after each one.

“You got all that, Cass?” Dean asks.

Cass nods once more.

“Yes. I should be able to locate all of them, but it may take me a little while. I should get started.”

With that, he disappears.

“He never says goodbye.” You grumble.

“Yeah,” Sam laughs, “You get used to that eventually.”

“There’s something else.” Metatron states, looking at you once more. “You have to be the one to do the spell, since you were the seal. If you do it, and you do it right, it not only opens the door, it ensures that he stays trapped once you put him back in.”

You nod, taking in everything he’s saying.

“And then… the spell itself becomes the seal.” He says.

Your eyes go wide.

“Meaning… I won’t have to be anymore.” You breathe.

You exchange looks of surprise with Sam and Dean, all three of you speechless for a few seconds at this news.

“Alright.” Sam says, snapping out of his wonder to grab a pen and paper and hand it to Metatron, “Write the spell down. All of it. Now.”

Metatron does as he’s told, and the three of you head out of the dungeon and to the library, spell in hand.

“Man, God’s a dick.” Dean mutter as the three of you take your seats at the library table. “Why couldn’t he have just made this damn spell the seal in the first place?”

Sam scoffs. “Because he likes to make things complicated. I think he likes the drama of it all.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean responds, “He can take his drama and shove it up his ass.”

“At this point, it doesn’t matter.” You say. “If this spell can really do what Metatron says it can and take my place as the seal, then I don’t even care.”

“Then let’s see if we can make sure he’s telling the truth.” Sam says, opening his laptop.

You spend the next few hours searching for anything that might confirm the information Metatron gave you. You go online, crack open books in the bunker, looking for any spells with the incantation and ingredients Metatron wrote down.

But after a few hours, you still don’t have anything.

All three of you lost in a book, none of you realize when Crowley appears across the room.

“Well, hello, lovelies.” He states.

Your heads all snap in his direction, on high alert, and you collectively breathe a sigh of relief when you realize it’s just Crowley.

“Jesus, Crowley!” Dean shouts. “You can’t go sneakin’ up on us when we got Lucifer on our ass, alright?”

“My sincerest apologies.” Crowley says, walking toward the three of you. “I just popped in to see about that very situation, actually. Well, that, and I just couldn’t go another moment without seeing all this flannel.”

Sam and Dean roll their eyes.

“What have we got, then? What’s the skinny on the Devil?” He asks.

“As far as where he is, we got nothing.” You say, “But, we think we have a spell that might just open the cage so that we can throw him back in.”

Crowley raises his eyebrows.

“Throw him back in? Ah yes, I remember that being a walk in the park for you boys last time.” He states, eyeing Sam and Dean incredulously.

“Yeah, well, we did it once.” Dean snaps. “We can do it again.”

“Plus, it’s the only hope we got right now.” Sam says.

Crowley just eyes the three of you for a few more seconds.

“Right. Fair enough.” He states. “Well, come on then, let’s see this clever little spell.”

You pick the piece of paper up off the table and hand it to him, and he silently looks it over for a few seconds. As he does, you see him narrow his eyes, almost suspiciously, before putting it back down onto the table.

“What?” You ask, uneasy.

He continues to stare down at the paper for a few more seconds before snapping himself out of it and looking at you.

“Oh, nothing, pet. Just remembered I’ve forgotten to water my plants. See you all soon. Kisses.”

And with that, he disappears.

You and the boys exchange confused and suspicious looks of your own.

“Okay… what the Hell was that?” You wonder.

“I don’t know.” Sam says. “But that was definitely shady.”

“The limey son of a bitch is always shady. It’s what he does.” Dean chimes in.

You all agree on that, and spend another few hours trying to check up on this spell. But you end up another few hours in with nothing to show for it.

You see the frustration and impatience all over the boys’ faces, and you realize it’s time to call it for the night.

You stand up, abruptly slamming both boys’ laptops closed when you do.

“Okay, that’s enough.” You announce.

They both furrow their brows at you, but you just look at them with a confident smirk.

“Look, this whole spell thing is important. But so is my time with the two of you. And we’ve done our due diligence for the night. Fuck the Devil. It’s time to have a little fun.”

You give them both a mischievous smile and head to the kitchen, returning only a moment later with a bottle of whiskey and three glasses. You place the glasses in front of the boys and pour the whiskey, and although you can tell they’re both still stressed, you see them relax when you do.

Only moments later, the three of you are laughing and joking and making fun of each other as if nothing’s wrong at all. Just like you always have, since the beginning.  
You’re reminiscing about old hunts, both theirs and yours, and laughing about the biggest mistakes you’ve all made while monster-fighting.

And then, Dean starts making fun of the goofiest and most embarrassing things Sam did when they were kids, and Sam quickly gets back at him by making fun of the most embarrassing escapades Dean has had with women all over the country.

You’re belly laughing at both of them, thoroughly enjoying these stories – especially the ones that seem to embarrass Dean. And you can’t help but admire the rosy shade of his cheeks as he blushes and looks at you sheepishly.

Before you know it, more hours have passed, and you realize you and the Winchesters have been up drinking and joking into the late hours of the night. And more importantly, you realize how much you missed doing this. How much it means to you.

The bullshitting. The laughing. The smiles on their faces and the dimples on their cheeks and the joy that they do not get to experience as often as they deserve.

You sip your drink and admire them and they smile at you and your heart feels full.

But that joy only lasts until you remember the dream you had.

The one you’ve been carrying around with you since you got up this morning.

The one you’ve been keeping from them.

And apparently, it’s all over your face.

“Hey,” Sam says, puppy dog eyes on full display once again, “What’s going on?”

You don’t want to do it, don’t want to ruin this seemingly perfect night, but you know need to tell them.

“I, uh… I had a visit last night. In my dream. From Lucifer.” You state.

The boys exchange glances before looking back to you in concern.

“That son of a bitch invaded your dreams?!” Dean growls, clearly infuriated.

“Yeah.” You say quietly. “He had a message for me.”

They both look on, tense and worried, and you go on.

“Not surprisingly, he’s pissed. He said that I either give us up now and make it easy on us, or he’ll eventually find us on his own. He said… we have some sort of connection from me being the seal to his cage. And that that connection is going to lead him right to me. To us.”

The boys look on, their eyes still concerned and surprised.

“I should have told you right after it happened. And I’m sorry I didn’t.” You explain earnestly. “I just… I didn’t want to worry either of you anymore than you already were.”

You look at both of them, and you know they can see that you mean what you’re saying.

“Hey, hey Sweetheart.” Dean utters, reaching for your hand. “Don’t sweat it. You’re tellin’ us now. It’s okay.”

“Yeah… trust me.” Sam chimes in, “I’ve had the Devil invade my dreams, too. I get it. It’s messed up. Don’t worry. We’re here for you.”

You smile at the both of them, instantly soothed by both of their words.

“Did he say anything else?” Sam asks.

You look at them and sigh before going on.

“Yeah.” You breathe. “Yeah, he said that when he does find us, he’s gonna… kill you slowly in front of me. Make me watch as he tortures you. That you’re gonna suffer, and it’s gonna be my fault.”

You look down at the glass in your hand when you finish speaking, and the two of them can feel the guilt and concern radiating off of you.

Dean squeezes your hand once more.

“Not a god damn second of this is your fault.” He rasps.

And the way he says it instantly fills you with security.

You look up at him, and see the sincerity, the way he wants so badly to protect you, and then you look to Sam, who has the same look on his face.

But despite their looks reassuring that it isn’t your fault, you also see the tenseness behind those looks. The concern they both clearly feel, after hearing what Lucifer said to you.  
And just then, Cass appears in the room.

“Cass!” You exclaim, relieved both at his return and at the distraction from the current conversation, “Hey, you got everything?”

He nods confidently.

“Yes. I was able to procure all of the ingredients Metatron listed. I placed them all in your bedroom for now.”

You and the boys smile at him.

“Atta boy.” You say with a grin. “Well, have a seat then. Join us. You’ve earned it.”

He smiles and takes a seat at the table, and it’s then that the four of you look around at each other, realizing what this really means.

You have all the ingredients. You have a spell.

Could this really be it? A spell to open the cage and toss Lucifer back in, once and for all? Maybe none of the threats he made will matter after all.

The hope is radiating between the four of you, and none of you have to say anything to know what you’re all thinking.

And then, Crowley returns.

“Metatron’s lying to you.” He states, matter-of-factly.

All four of you look at him, suddenly confused and shaken out of your brief hopefulness.

“How do you know?” Dean asks.

Crowley glares at him.

“Hello? KING of HELL!” He exclaims.

None of you respond, silently waiting for him to clarify.

He looks around at all four of you, his eyes finally landing on you, and he sighs.

“I’ll admit I’m not the most familiar with spells, but when I saw this one, I knew it looked familiar. I’d seen it in the books in the depths of Hell once before. You spend enough time down there, you see so many things they all start to blend together. But this one, I knew I’d seen. It’s ancient as anything. And Metatron isn’t telling the whole truth about it.”

“So, what? It won’t really open the cage?” You ask.

“On the contrary.” Crowley responds. “In fact, the spell itself is great. Full proof. It opens the door and ensures that you’re no longer the seal. That our dear friend Lucifer is truly trapped for good.”

“Then what the Hell is the problem?” Dean demands.

“Metatron didn’t lie about what the spell DID, he merely left out an ingredient.” Crowley explains, looking around at all of you. “The most important one.”

“Why would he do that?” Sam asks.

“Because he knew, once he told you all about this particular ingredient, the whole spell would get him nowhere.” Crowley goes on, and it’s then that you begin to notice the concern in his tone. “He knew this last ingredient would ruin the whole idea of the spell for all of you. For all of US. And that would take away his only bargaining chip.”

A hush falls over the room for a few seconds, all of you realizing that you may not want to know what this ingredient is at all.

Finally, you break the silence.

“So… what is this last ingredient?”

And then, Crowley drops an ancient book down onto the table, open to a page with the whole spell laid out in front of you all.

Then, he looks at you.

“As the ever special seal, God’s chosen one, the reason Lucifer is back in the first place… the spell requires your blood.”

When he says it, you can hear the regret in his tone. As if he wishes he never found this information in the first place.

Once again, the room is silent. You all look at each other, the fear and unease evident on all of your faces. Your gaze connects briefly with Dean’s, and you see the panic in his eyes.

And then, Crowley says the words you were all dreading.

“A lot of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!!!


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How will the boys - and of course, the reader - feel about Crowley's news?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dude, 50 chapters.
> 
> What?!
> 
> All of your support continues to amaze me. Thank you so much!

“As the ever special seal, God’s chosen one, the reason Lucifer is back in the first place… the spell requires your blood.”

When he says it, you can hear the regret in his tone. As if he wishes he never found this information in the first place.

Once again, the room is silent. You all look at each other, the fear and unease evident on all of your faces. Your gaze connects briefly with Dean’s, and you see the panic in his eyes.

And then, Crowley says the words you were all dreading.

“A lot of it.”

You look at the boys, and you see the color drain from their faces.

You look back at Crowley, determination on your face.

“Enough to kill me?” You ask.

He sighs.

“Five pints. Half the blood in your body. More than enough to kill the average human, I’m afraid.”

You just look at him, swallowing hard and nodding subtly in acceptance.

“Okay, so… so we collect a little at a time, right?” Sam asks, hopeful. “If we save up enough, it could still work.”

“Ah, Samantha, ever the thinker.” Crowley answers. “Sadly, the spell calls for FRESH blood. Says so right there in the fine print.” He points down at the book.

“It wouldn’t matter anyway.” You say, your voice quiet. “Lucifer’s on our ass. I can feel it. The time it would take to save up that much blood… it’s time we don’t have.”

“It seems as if God made the spell this way on purpose.” Castiel chimes in. You all look at him, waiting for him to clarify.

“The spell requires enough fresh blood from you to be fatal. Ultimately, meaning the spell can’t be successful unless it kills you. Since, technically, you were the seal who broke and freed Lucifer, it seems that God is demanding your blood… and therefore, you… as a sacrifice in order to send him back.”

You scoff. You find yourself hating God more and more every day.

“So, to put it even more plainly, I gotta bleed myself dry in order to lock Lucifer up, because it’s my fault he’s free in the first place.” You state, your tone laced with anger. “It was my destiny to be the seal to keep him down there and since I fucked that up, now it’s my destiny to be the sacrifice that sends him back.”

“No.” Dean utters, his gaze unfocused and glazed over. “No.” He repeats.

No one else says anything, and that’s when he finally focuses and looks around at everyone.

“No, alright?!” He growls. “It’s not happening. We’ll find another way.”

“Dean…” You start.

“I said NO!” He shouts, furrowing his brows and standing up in frustration. “Just…” He looks down at you, the emotion all over his face, “Just, no. Okay?”

He looks at you for a few more seconds before stomping out of the room and down the hall to his own room, slamming the door behind him.

The rest of you just look at each other, silently acknowledging that you all understand exactly what Dean’s feeling right now.

After a few moments, Crowley speaks up, clearly trying to cut the tension weighing heavy in the air.

“Well, I suppose I’ll pop back downstairs. See if I can’t find any loopholes to this spell.” He looks down at you, an almost pity in his eyes. “If there’s anything, I’ll find it, pet.”

You just smile subtly and nod at him, and with that, he’s gone.

And although you appreciate his offer, you know he won’t find anything. That’s not how this works. That’s not how your life was written. Your life was designed from the very beginning to be nothing more than a tragedy with a few brief blips of happiness on the radar.

And there’s nothing you can do about that.

“So,” You murmur, “Metatron was lying. Who could have predicted that?”

Sam and Cass just continue looking at you, the sadness all over their faces.

“Okay, look, guys, I really need you to let me change the subject here.” You state plainly. “Let’s deal with Metatron. Please.”

They exchange glances, then nod back to you.

“He’s still a fugitive on the run from Heaven.” Cass says. “The angels are still looking for him.”

“So, you think we should give him back?” Sam asks.

“I don’t know. They will certainly be angry with us if they find out he was here and we didn’t.” Cass answers.

“Fine.” You say. “We’ll go back in there, tell him we know he’s lying, and then you can drag his ass back upstairs. Even though a lifetime rotting in prison still sounds too good for him as far as I’m concerned.”

You stand up, looking down at them when you do.

“Meet you in there in 5.”

They nod back to you, and you head towards Dean’s room. You knock gently a couple times before opening the door.

You see him, sitting on the edge of his bed, hands gripping the sheets on either side of him, his tense face staring out into nothing.

“Hey there, handsome.” You say softly.

He breaks out of his trance and looks over at you, the pain overflowing out of his green eyes and going straight to your chest. He looks you up and down, and his face softens slightly when he does.

“Hi, Gorgeous.” He croaks.

You begin to walk towards him, and as you do, he suddenly stands, strides up to meet you, and grabs your face in his hands, urgently planting his lips on yours.

He inhales deeply and squeezes his eyes closed as he does, as if kissing you right now is the only thing that can hold him together. You melt into it, kissing him back and wrapping your own arms around his back.

After a few long seconds he pulls away, looking down at you and studying your Y/E/C eyes intently. He doesn’t say anything, and you know him well enough to know it’s because he doesn’t know where to begin. He doesn’t have the words.

And right now, neither do you.

“We need to deal with Metatron.” You whisper, looking up at him.

He just looks at you for a few more seconds, silently acknowledging that you’ve changed the subject for everyone’s sake – especially his – and you watch as he decides to go along.

He clears his throat and nods.

“Yeah… yeah. You’re right.”

The two of you head to the dungeon, meeting Sam and Cass just outside the door.

Sam opens the door and the four of you walk in. Metatron looks up at all of you, his same obnoxious smile crossing his face.

“Well, hello everyone.” He quips, his eyes scanning between all of you. “Got your ingredients? Ready to deliver on your end of the deal?”

You all glare at him, and his smile fades slightly.

“Hey, come on, guys, you wouldn’t try to scam me out of our little deal, would you?”

Sam scoffs. “Oh, that’s rich.”

Metatron’s confidence falters a little more, but you can see he’s trying to maintain innocence.

“Jig is up, Metatron.” You state.

He looks at you and swallows hard.

“Wh- well… Well I have no idea what you mean!” He exclaims.

Without a word, Dean steps forward and punches Metatron across the face. His head snaps backwards and he yelps out in pain, and Dean just clenches his jaw and glares down at him, still tightly clenching his fists.

You all watch Dean uneasily, knowing all the emotion that led up to that punch. You watch as Dean’s chest heaves and his body remains tense and Sam steps forward and speaks up to cut the tension.

“You didn’t tell us all the ingredients.” Sam spits. “Conveniently left one out.”

Metatron’s still trying to shake off Dean’s punch and it takes a few seconds for Sam’s words to sink in. When they do, he looks up at Sam, then quickly at you, then back to Sam. It’s clear he’s surprised that you’ve all figured it out.

“What’s wrong, huh?” You ask, stepping forward. “Having trouble thinking of a way to weasel yourself out of this one?”

He just looks at you, still speechless for a few seconds before finally finding his voice.

Well, I… If I had told you that final ingredient, I’d have nothing!” He exclaims. “That spell would mean nothing to you if you knew what it really cost! And then I… I…”

“You would have lost your last bargaining chip.” Cass states.

“Yeah, well, guess what – you lost it anyway.” Sam says. “Cass is taking you back to Heaven.”

Metatron’s eyes go wide as Cass takes a step toward him and the panic and self-preservation set in.

“No! Castiel, you can’t!” He begs. “Trapped in Heaven’s cell? That’s a fate worse than death!”

Cass just takes another step forward, and you watch as Metatron realizes there’s no way to talk himself out of this, and his anger sets in.

“It’s not like the spell would work anyway, regardless of the ingredients!” He growls, looking around at all of you. “You can’t stop the Devil! You four? Hah! You four fools?! A fallen angel, a half-wit giant, a reckless, sharp-tongued woman, and a caveman with a funny Mark on his arm? Please!”

Your anger bubbles as you listen to him, especially when he insults your boys. He gets to Dean, too, because Dean punches him again.

Metatron is rocked once more, but recovers quickly enough to glare at Dean.

“I killed you too quickly. I should’ve taken my time, made sure you stayed dead!” He snarls.

Dean’s about to hit him again, but before he even has a chance, you’re picking an angel blade off the tray next you and rushing forward, pressing the blade against Metatron’s throat with a growl. Everyone looks at you in surprise, but no one stops you. Deep down, no one really wants to.

Metatron’s eyes go wide as he looks at the blade, then into your seething eyes.

“Being locked up in Heaven is a fate worse than death, huh?” You ask. “Then how about I do you a favor and kill you right now?”

His eyes go even wider and he swallows hard.

“N-no! I was simply hyperbolizing. I didn’t mean that literally.” He explains shakily.

“Ah.” You raise your eyebrows. “So you wouldn’t prefer that I kill you right now and get justice for these boys and for every other person you’ve hurt? You’d prefer to be taken up to Heaven?”

“Yes!” He shouts. “I’d rather be in prison than die right now!”

You narrow your eyes at him and smile.

“Even better.” You whisper.

With that, you plunge the blade into his chest with no hesitation. He looks at you in shock as he shouts, and then his eyes and mouth light up and the room shakes. After a few seconds, the light disappears, and his head falls forward, limp. The boys look on in surprise, but when you stand up straight and look around at them, you can see relief on all of their faces. Especially Dean’s.

You look at Cass, your gaze strong.

“If the angels find out he was here, you feel free to tell them I’m the one who killed him.” You say confidently.

Cass nods, and Sam and Dean can’t help but smile at you.

You look at both of them.

“I’m not sorry.” You say. “After what he did to all of you, I’m not sorry.”

“Sweetheart,” Dean rasps, wrapping an arm around you looking intently at you, “You don’t need to be sorry.”

You smile at him, and you see the relief on his face even more clearly. He never does things for himself. Never considers what he might need. And it’s clear to you right now, that seeing you kill the son of a bitch who stabbed and killed him… that was something he needed. And maybe you did too. He's killed so many of the monsters that have hurt you. You can't deny, it feels good to return the favor.

You all clean up the dungeon and the body together, and Cass heads out to once more continue looking for clues as to where Michael is, with Lucifer’s approach looming over all of you. Sam heads to bed, Dean takes a shower, and you’re sitting in the library alone.

You’ve got a whiskey in one hand, and the spell in the other. You study it over and over again, memorizing each and every word and each and every ingredient, letting the truth of the situation sink in further and further.

It’s such a simple spell.

Just toss the ingredients into a bowl, whisper a few words of Latin…

And spill half the blood in your body over the top.

Simple.

And as you sit there, reading it silently, sipping your drink, all you can feel is overwhelming uncertainty.

You don’t want to die.

Not again.

You can’t leave these boys behind again. You can’t lose this life that you’ve built with them. The one you just got back. You can’t leave the man you love so much. You can’t say goodbye to Dean.

And yet, you can’t let the world end. You don’t even know what Lucifer has planned yet, but you know – whatever it is – will involve burning the world to the ground. And you can’t let that happen. It’s on you to stop that.

So what the Hell are you supposed to do?

Dean comes into the library, showered and changed into a fresh flannel and jeans, and furrows his brows when he sees you sitting alone.

“Now, Sweetheart, a pretty thing like you drinkin’ all alone is simply a crime.” He drawls with a smirk as he approaches you.

You smile up at him.

“You still trying to pick me up, Winchester? You already got me.”

“Darlin’, I will never stop tryin’ to pick you up.”

The sincerity in his voice and sparkle of his smile gives you butterflies. You pull a chair out and pour him a glass, nodding for him to sit next to you. He does, and it’s then that he finally realizes what you’re doing in here. He looks down at the spell in front of you and his smiles fades, his jaw clenching as it does.

You watch as his eyes zero in on the spell, the pain and frustration all over his face. You stay that way for a few long seconds before you finally speak up.

“Are we being selfish?” You ask.

He looks up at you, slightly surprised, and you go on.

“I mean… if this spell could be the one thing that stops him, that saves the world… are we being selfish by not considering the possibility-"

“No.” He states, his voice deep and full of gravel.

“Dean,” You sigh, “You and Sam sacrifice yourselves to save the world all the time.”

“Yeah, and look what it gets us.” He says. “There’s always another apocalypse. It never ends.”

“But this particular apocalypse happens to me my fault.” You mutter, unable to mask the guilt on your face.

“You didn’t ask for this!” He shouts, the fear dripping from his tone. “You shouldn’t have to give your life to stop it!”

“Dean…” You utter.

“No.” He states again.

“But Dean-"

“NO!” He bellows, slamming his hand down flat on the table. You don’t jump, you just close your eyes, your heart aching at the sound of the pain in his voice.

He lets out an exasperated breathe before turning and urgently taking your face in his hands. You open your eyes and look into his, and find pure desperation in them.

“I can’t lose you again.” He studies your face intently, his brows furrowed and his eyes pleading. “I can’t do it again. I’m not strong enough. I… I’m just not, Y/N. I cannot face this world without you. I won’t.”

A silence falls over the both of you when he finishes. You just stare at each other, the passion and the power consuming you both. All rational thinking leaves your mind and all you can focus on is the love in his eyes and the call of his lips and feeling of his hands on you, and you can’t hold yourself back.

You suddenly press your lips against his, and he instantly melts into your kiss. He brings one hand from your face around to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair and pulling you even deeper into the kiss. His other hand trails down your side and grips your thigh, pulling you suddenly forward and onto his lap, straddling him.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss him deeply, both of you inhaling and exhaling through your nose as your lips move and your tongues dip. Everything around you is drowned out by the pounding in your heart and the feeling of his lips and hands all over you. He grips your hair even tighter, pulling your head back to allow access to your neck. He drags his lips roughly from yours and down to your neck, sucking and kissing with urgency. You feel the contrast between the roughness of his scruff and the softness of his lips and it makes your hair stand on end.

You grip him even tighter and grind your hips down onto him, and he growls out subtly in arousal. He bucks his hips right back up into you, and you feel his hardness through his jeans. He suddenly pulls away from your neck and you look down at him, your hands now holding his face and both of your chests heaving. His green eyes study you, looking past your eyes and somewhere much deeper inside of you. The look that you share only with him.

“I need you.” He huffs.

He’s so beautiful, so sincere, that he leaves you speechless. You just nod back in total agreement, and that’s all he needs. He grabs the bottom of your t-shirt and quickly lifts it off over your head, and you pull his flannel and t-shirt off of him as well. You both pause once again, silently studying each other, moving your hands softy over each other’s chests, breathing deeply as you feel each other’s heartbeats.

He looks in awe of you as he touches you and studies your frame, and he swallows hard and licks his lips as he looks you up and down. He reaches down and unbuttons your jeans, and you once again do the same for him. He pulls your jeans off and you shove his down and you look at each other, breathing heavily as his hands tightly grip your thighs and yours wrap around the back of his neck.

He lifts you only slightly, allowing you to position yourself over top of him. Then, slowly, you lower yourself down onto him and allow him to fill you completely. You both gasp in pleasure and he grips your thighs even tighter, his gasp fading into a moan.

Slowly, you lift yourself up once more and bring yourself back down. You both moan out once more and the feeling of him inside of you makes your legs instantly shake. You continue this way, with long, slow movements, moving up and down on top of him as his grip on you helps him to lift you each time. You’re both huffing and grunting and whining with need, and your arousal is overwhelming.

The pleasure overtakes him as well, and he reaches one hand up behind your back, frantically gripping you right between your shoulder blades, the other hand still tightly gripping your thigh. You moan as you grind against him, his hips moving up to meet yours, matching your rhythm perfectly.

You feel your orgasm building with each slow, deliberate, movement that fills you and hits your sweet spot every time. He feels it too, and he tightens his grip on you further as he quickly stands, lifting you with him and placing you down onto the table, allowing him to take over control.

You instantly wrap your legs around him and pull him inside you further, and he growls in pleasure as he moves his hand further up your leg, but never once loosens his grip. His other arm is still tightly wrapped around your back as he begins to pull back, before slowly pushing himself back inside of you. You whine out his name and grip his shoulders tightly, trying to ground yourself as the pleasure begins to take you away.

He doesn’t pick up his pace – he isn’t pounding into you or fucking you hard. He’s making love to you. Slowly, deliberately, purposefully. And it feels the kind of amazing that you cannot describe.

Then, you look at each other, and the way he’s looking at you is unlike any way he ever has while having sex. His eyes are so full of lust, and yet also so full of heartache. The love exuding from them is all-consuming, and your heart pounds from the pleasure and yet aches at the same time.

He’s communicating with you, telling you things with his whole body right now that words could never say. This is passionate, it’s heart-wrenching, it’s desperate…

It’s as if it needs to be this way, just in case he never gets to do it again.

He feels so good inside of you, and you feel yourself once again nearing your peak. You’re completely overwhelmed by the love and the passion and the blinding pleasure, and in that second you see him reaching his breaking point as well. He furrows his brows and squeezes his eyes closed as he presses his forehead to yours and you grab the back of his head, close your eyes, and press your forehead right back against his.

The two of you gasp and moan through your orgasms, letting the waves of pleasure wash over you both as one. You feel his hands holding you so tightly, even as your orgasms fade, as if he doesn’t ever want to let go. You stay this way, panting and huffing quietly, foreheads still pressed against each other, bodies still tangled together.

After a few moments, he pulls back, his eyes studying yours. You don’t say anything to him. You’re completely and utterly speechless.

“I just…” He pants, his eyes boring into yours desperately, “I can’t lose you.”

He looks down, furrows his brows, licks his lips, then looks back into your eyes.

“Okay?”

You study him closely, your gaze matching the intensity of his. You nod subtly.

“Okay.” You whisper.

The intensity in the air breaks finally when he smiles, still panting and coming down from his orgasm.

“Okay.” He breathes.

You smile back, and he places a hand gently on your cheek and kisses you deeply. He pulls back and looks at you once more, a smirk still on his face.

“Every time, Sweetheart,” He rasps, “You make me feel somethin’ even deeper. I don’t know how, but you do.”

You grin back, chuckling breathlessly at the way he took the words from your mouth.

“I could say the same to you, Winchester.” You breathe.

His grin widens and he backs away from the table allowing you to hop down. You both begin to pick up your clothes, and you smile as you grab his flannel from the ground and put it on, leaving it unbuttoned over your otherwise nude body.

Once he picks up the rest of his clothes he turns to look at you, freezing in his tracks when he does. He looks you up and down, and you just smirk at him.

“Time for bed, tough guy?” You ask playfully as you turn and begin to walk toward his bedroom.

“Ooh, darlin’, you know better than to think we’re just goin’ to bed when you walk away from me lookin’ like that.” He drawls, as he chases you down the hallway and into his room, locking the door behind him.

The next day, you and the boys spend most of the day searching for leads on Lucifer. You don’t talk about the spell. With Dean truly getting through to you last night, you don’t want to talk about it. You know you can’t forget about it completely, but you’re willing to stop considering it as an option right now.

That is, if any of you can manage to think of another option.

Any other option.

At all.

After hours of yet again dead-end searching, Cass shows up to join you all in the library with more dead ends on his end as well. All of you frustrated, you decide everyone needs a beer and head to the kitchen to grab some. As you walk back into the library with a six-pack in hand, you see Crowley appear on the other end of the room.

You place the beers down on the table and sit next to Dean as Crowley approaches, and you see his eyes glance down to look at the beers, then around at all of you.

“Well, lovely to see that you lot are working so hard looking for the Devil.”

“Oh, shut up, Crowley,” Dean grumbles as he grabs a beer and pops the top, “We’ve been lookin’ all day, alright?”

Crowley just raises his eyebrows as he watches Dean take a long sip.

“What about you, huh Crowley?” Sam asks with the attitude he seems to have reserved especially for the demon. “You got any good news?”

Crowley looks at Sam for a few seconds before finally looking at you, a solemn look in his eyes.

“I’m afraid not.” He mutters.

“Doesn’t matter.” Dean says, “We need to think of another plan anyway. Some other way to stop him.”

You all look around at each other.

“Which I think I might have.” Dean states.

Everyone looks at him in surprise, including you.

“And what on Earth might that be?” Crowley asks.

Dean looks around at all of you and smirks before finally answering.

“We kill him.”

Everyone’s eyes go wide, and you and Sam both exhale sharply in disbelief.

“Uh, Dean… the Colt couldn’t even kill him, remember? You think you’re just gonna pick up an angel blade and stab him with it?” Sam asks.

“Not me.” Dean answers, his eyes then flicking to you. “Her.”

With that, everyone looks at you. Your heart begins to beat more quickly, but you don’t react. You just look at the confidence in Dean’s eyes.

“You’re mad.” Crowley utters. 

“Maybe.” Dean states. “But you didn’t see the way he looked at her when she held that angel blade. He was scared of her. And his powers don’t work on her. Is it that crazy to think she could kill him?”

“There is nothing that we know of that can kill him. Besides another archangel. And I still haven’t found anything on Michael.” Cass says.

“Yeah, I know.” Dean answers. “But we could at least look into it, right? It’s not like we got a whole Hell of a lot else to go on right now.”

No one responds to him right away, everyone considering what he’s saying. Your mind is racing, trying to wrap your head around the concept.

“It’s not impossible to imagine that Y/N may have some sort of power against him.” Cass reasons. “But it’s certainly not guaranteed. Or even likely.”

“Yeah, great, thanks, Cass.” Dean grumbles.

“Dean’s right.” Sam says. “It’s at least worth looking into. Considering we have nothing else.”

“You’re ALL mad.” Crowley states.

“Probably.” Cass says. “Truthfully, the chances are… slim.”

“Well,” Dean drawls, turning and grinning at you confidently as he does.

“I’d bet on her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Hope you enjoyed!


	51. Chapter 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does the Reader feel about Dean's new plan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> I hope everyone is still safe and healthy. Thank you all for continuing to share this with me and allowing me to share my crazy ideas with you. You all already know you're awesome.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“I’m getting closer, Y/N.”

“I know you can feel it.”

“Come on, open your eyes, let’s have a chat.”

You gasp, your eyes shooting open. You look around, finding yourself no longer cuddled up next to Dean in his bed.

Instead, you’re standing in an empty room.

Empty, that is, except for him.

“Ah, there she is. Miss me?”

You glare at him, your whole body tensing.

“Get the fuck out of my dreams, Lucifer.”

He just pouts slightly.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He says.

He looks at you, as if expecting playful banter back. Banter that you refuse to give him the satisfaction of providing.

“Doesn’t matter.” He quips. “We’ll be seeing each other out there in the real world soon enough, won’t we?”

You still don’t respond, your jaw clenched and your face stone.

He just grins and continues talking, in a playful sing-song tone.

“I’m coming to get you.” He sings with a smile, pointing at you as he does. “And you can feel it.”

You swallow hard, and his grin widens.

He looks into your eyes, his face becoming suddenly serious and earnest.

“Any day now, Y/N. I’ll find you and those handsome boys of yours. I can sense you. It’s taken time, and patience, but I’m almost there. And you know it.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “And there’s nothing you can do about it now.”

You narrow your eyes.

“Come and get me, you son of a bitch.”

His face lights up once more.

“Ah, there’s the fight! That’s what I like to see! You got some sort of plan, huh Y/N? You and the Winchesters actually think you’ve got a chance?”

That, you don’t answer. You just hold his gaze, and he takes another step toward you, studying your face, as if he’s looking for some kind of answer in your expression. After a few seconds of you giving nothing away, he throws his hands up in the air.

“Ah, come on! What’s your plan? Just give me a hint. That’s all I’m asking for. Just a teensy-weensy little hint. It’ll make this whole thing so much more fun.”

He looks at you once more, eyebrows raised, waiting for an answer. When you don’t give one, he sighs.

“Fine. How about I give you a hint about my plan, then? I can tell you… it involves a whole lotta pain, a whole lotta blood, and two dead Winchesters.”

He finishes with a smile that curdles your blood, but you don’t let him see that.

“Fine, you wanna know my plan?” You finally speak up.

He holds his smile, his eyes lighting up when you finally decide to speak to him, and you go on.

“My plan is to wait out this pointless conversation, let you get all your pathetic gloating out for the night, so that I can wake up and get on with my day.”

You finish with a cocky smirk. His own smile doesn’t fade, but you see the rage flash through is eyes.

“Tell the boys ‘Hi’ from me.” He states, leaning closer to you and bringing his voice down to a whisper.

“Ready or not, Y/N, here I come.”

Your eyes snap open once more, but this time you’re back in bed. And Dean is still sound asleep next to you. You let out a quiet breath of relief, staring up at the ceiling as you try to calm your racing heart.

It’s been one day since Dean unveiled his brilliant idea that you should ice the Devil. And as much as you’d love to, you aren’t even sure that you can. His powers don’t work on you, it’s true, but that doesn’t mean you can kill him.

You want to. You want to be everything that Dean sees in you. You want to have the kind of faith in yourself that he has in you. But when you’re talking about literally killing Satan himself, that kind of faith is tough to have.

That sure as Hell doesn’t mean you won’t try. You’ll try until your last breath. You’ll go down fighting, and swinging, and you won’t stop until you’ve plunged that angel blade as deep as you can into Lucifer’s chest. Of that, you’re sure.

You’re just not so sure about what will happen when you do.

As you’re lost in thought, Dean slowly begins to wake up next to you. He cracks his eyes open and turns to look at you, his brows furrowing when he sees you’re already awake. His tired green eyes study your face, and when he sees the concern all over it, he quickly rolls over and brings his face even closer to yours.

“Hey, what is it?” He asks, his voice still thick from sleep.

You don’t look at him, you just continue staring up into nothing. You shake your head slightly.

“I don’t know if it will work.” You whisper.

He realizes instantly what you’re saying, and his face softens.

“We have no proof that it will work.” You go on. “I don’t know how you have this complete and total faith in me when-"

“Hey,” He rasps, bringing his hand up to the side of your face, turning your head to look at him, “Hey, you kiddin’ me?”

You look into his eyes, and see the sincerity behind them.

“Have you met you? “He chuckles. “How could I not have faith in you?”

Your heart flutters slightly, and you can’t help but smile back as he goes on.

“Look, I get this is a lot. I know it is. Trust me, I know what it feels like to have the future of the whole world weighin’ on your shoulders. And yeah, you’re right, we don’t have any proof it’ll work. But we’re gonna find out. We’re gonna do our research, like we always do. And we’ll find somethin’. We got a demon, an angel, and my nerd brother all lookin’ for somethin’.”

You chuckle slightly, and he smiles even wider at that.

“It’s just an idea, Sweetheart, that’s all. And we won’t go lookin’ for him until we’re sure.”

With that, your smile fades.

“We’re running out of time, Dean.” You say quietly. “It won’t matter whether or not we’re ready to go looking for him. Because… he’s gonna find us.”

His smile fades as well, and he furrows his brows as he studies your face when you speak. As he looks at you, a sad look of realization washes over his face.

“That’s why you were already up.” He breathes. “He was in your dream again, wasn’t he?”

You swallow hard and look into his eyes, the expression on your face giving him his answer.

“Son of a bitch.” He growls quietly.

“He’s almost found us.” You murmur. “And we aren’t ready.”

“We will be.” He whispers, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “We will figure somethin’ out. I know we will. And you know how I know?”

You study him intently as he goes on.

“Because that faith I have in you, it ain’t ever goin’ away. And it tells me we’re gonna stop that son of a bitch, one way or another. And we’re gonna do it together.”

You watch him closely as he speaks, and those green eyes begin to calm you.

“I’ll keep believin’ in you if you keep believin’ in me, Sweetheart.” He drawls.

And he’s right. You don’t have to have all the faith in yourself. Because you have faith in him. And he’s got it in you. And somehow, that works.

“Okay?” He asks.

You smile at him, bringing your own hand up to the side of his face.

“Okay.” You say.

He smiles, satsified. “Well, okay.”

“Thank you, Winchester.” You whisper.

“Any time, darlin’.” He rasps with a wink.

Despite the fact that you want nothing more than to spend the whole day in bed with Dean, you both force yourselves to get up and head to the library. There, you find Sam and Cass already hard at work researching.

You and the boys spend all morning hitting the books harder than you ever have. Sam goes way back into the archives, pulling out articles and research papers and books spanning back decades. You meticulously read them all, looking for one that has anything at all to do with killing Lucifer or with your potential ability to do so as the seal.

At the same time, you’re all brainstorming ideas, ways for you to get a good shot at him with the blade in the event that he does show up. And everything just feels like a maybe.

Maybe we should hide an angel blade here.

Maybe we should hide one there.

Maybe he won’t find you at all.

Maybe he’ll find you tomorrow.

Maybe you’ll be able to kill him.

Maybe you won’t.

Nothing is certain. And although that is something you’re entirely used to in this line of work, the stakes are a Hell of a lot higher this time.

And after yet another few hours of dead-end research, you begin to feel yourself coming undone. The words are starting to blur together as the pressure fogs your brain and weighs you down. The boys don’t say anything, but they can see it all over your face. You’re trying to read, trying to focus, but the frustration you feel makes it seem impossible.

You sigh, slamming the book you’re holding down onto the table. You stand quickly and walk down the hall to your room, the boys’ worried eyes watching you the whole way.

You rush into your room and stand in the middle, closing your eyes and inhaling through your nose, just trying to keep yourself from spinning completely out of control as your thoughts overwhelm you.

You’re so angry. You’re angry at the fates that God keeps forcing on you. You’re angry that the Devil continues to taunt you. You’re angry that you can’t manage to locate a single surefire way to stop him. And you’re angry that you’re the reason he’s back in the first place.

You hear a subtle knock on your open door, and when you turn around you see Sam standing in the doorway.

“Hey.” He says quietly.

“Hey.” You breathe.

“Can I come in?” He asks.

You nod. “Yeah, of course.”

He steps in, walking up to you and looking down at you with big, puppy dog eyes.

“Dean told me Lucifer was in your dream again.” He says.

You sigh.

“Yeah.” You whisper.

“I just… I just wanna make sure you’re okay.” He murmurs.

You just stare down at the floor, unsure of how to answer him.

“And I wanna make sure you know you’re not alone.”

You look up at him, and see sincerity and concern in his eyes.

“Look, there was a time when Lucifer told me that he and I were connected, too. And he used that against me, too. Trust me, there is no one who understands what his manipulation feels like better than I do.”

You study him closely as he speaks, feeling yourself softening with every word.

“And more importantly, I was the one who was responsible for raising him, too. I know what it feels like. That guilt… that pressure. So you are not alone. Not for a second.” He looks deep into your eyes as he says it.

You feel yourself calming down, feel him bringing you back to reality with every word.

He reaches out, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“None of this is your fault, Y/N. You didn’t ask for this. And you don’t have to do it on your own. Because whatever we do, we’re all doing it together. And the ONLY connection you have to Lucifer… is that you’re gonna be the one to stop him.”

It’s as if you can feel some of the weight lift from your chest.

You look up at him, studying his genuine expression and his honest eyes. You smile, before throwing yourself forward and wrapping your arms around him. He hugs you back instantly, resting his chin on top of your head.

“Thank you, Sammy.” You say into his chest.

After a few seconds, you pull away and he smiles down at you.

“Now, how about Dean and I will order us some food, you go grab some beers from the kitchen, and we all just hang out for a little while. No Lucifer talk, no Michael talk, just all of us, spending some quality time. I think we all need it.” He states.

“Sounds good to me, Ivy League.” You respond with a smirk and a nod.

He chuckles and nods back at you before walking out of your room.

You take a deep breath once he’s gone. You feel better. You can’t deny that. He managed, once again, to talk you off the edge. And you also can’t deny that you need some quality time with these boys.

But you’re still scared. You still feel Lucifer breathing down your neck, and you still feel guilty for that. And as hard as you may try, you just can’t shake that feeling.

You head to the kitchen, grabbing as many beers as you can carry out of the fridge. You stand up and turn around, and Cass is right behind you, inches away. You gasp and jump slightly before you realize it’s him. You exhale sharply and close your eyes.

“Jesus, Cass!” You open your eyes and look at him. “You scared the Hell out of me. Don’t do that!”

“Sorry.” He says sheepishly. “I… I came to help you carry the drinks. Dean said with the way your day has been going, we’re going to need more than just you can carry.”

You smile slightly at that.

“Of course he did. Well, he’s not wrong. Thanks, buddy. Here.” You hand him a few beers to carry.

He studies your face carefully and inquisitively.

“Are… are you alright?” He asks.

The question is unexpected and takes you by surprise, and you just look at him a few seconds before answering.

“Yeah.” You finally say. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine. I mean I released the Devil and right now we have no proof that I can stop him, putting the entire planet at risk, but… yeah, I’m okay.”

He furrows his brows as you speak. He studies your face closely, and you see the concern and understanding in his eyes before he speaks up.

“When I felt… guilt… and shame for what I did to you all those years ago, you were the one who made me feel better.” He says.

This, too, takes you by surprise, and you just listen as he continues.

“You told me it was okay, and that it didn’t matter, because all that matters is who I am. And that I am good.”

You nod slightly, recalling that night.

“I remember,” You say. “Because you are good, Cass.”

“Well…” He goes on, looking deeply into your eyes as he does. “YOU are good, Y/N. You may feel guilt that Lucifer is here, but you shouldn’t. It isn’t your fault. And for everything you’ve been through, for everything you’ve had to face, you’re still good. In my time, I have seen many humans. And not many of them could go through what you have, and still be as good as you are. The fact that you even still care enough to save a world that has been so cruel to you… that is true goodness.”

All you can do is exhale sharply as his words sink in and make your heart swell. You don’t even know how to respond. His words, Sam’s words, Dean’s faith in you… it all makes you feel like maybe you can do this. They make you feel grounded, solid, strong. Even now, they continue to get through to you in ways you had never imagined.

Damn these boys.

You smile at him, the gratitude and love all over your face.

“Thank you, Cass.” You breathe. “Really. Thank you.”

He smiles back, and you wink at him as the two of you head back out to the library.

You walk into the library, set the beers down on the table, and sit down next to Dean. He looks at you intently, and the two of you share a knowing look. He’s asking you if you’re okay without even saying a word. You smile at him, telling him you are, and your heart flutters when he shoots you a perfect grin back.

“Well, we have ordered pizza, we have beer, I am going to blast some tunes, and we are all going to hang out. Lucifer be damned.” Dean says confidently as he looks at you,“Nothin’ is gonna ruin this night.”

Just then, Crowley appears at the end of the table.

All three of the boys roll their eyes and Dean groans loudly.

“Spoke to soon, Dean.” Sam remarks sassily.

“Hello, boys.” Crowley states before glancing at you. “And Y/N.”

“What do you want, Crowley?” Sam asks.

“Oh, just checking in on my favorite flannel-clad dreamboats. So, what’s going on? Are we still on the absolutely bonkers plan to have Y/N risk life and limb to kill the Devil herself?”

No one answers right away. Eventually, Dean speaks up.

“Yeah, uh…” He clears his throat. “We sorta have a plan. In case he shows up.”

“And have you found any proof that it will be successful?” Crowley asks.

Again, everyone is silent, giving Crowley his answer. He raises his eyebrows at all of you.

“As I said before, you’re all mad.” He states.

“You know, Crowley, I’ve been struggling with this whole thing myself, but I gotta say, your undying faith in me really does help.” You say sarcastically.

“It’s not personal, love. I believe you are capable of many things. More things than Rocky and Bullwinkle combined, in fact.” He says, eyeing the boys.

Sam and Dean just glare at him as he continues.

“But… I am not willing to risk my own lovely hide on faith alone, I’m afraid.”

“So, you’re not gonna help.” Sam states, annoyed.

Everyone looks at him, waiting for him to confirm, and he looks almost sad as he looks at you. He sighs deeply, apology in his eyes.

“Afraid not.” His brief look of concern is shaken off quickly as he smiles at all of you. “Best of luck, though. Surprised as I am to say it, I am rooting for Team Winchester. Kisses.”

With that, he disappears.

“Yeah well great, come on back if you grow some balls!” Dean shouts into the air.

A few minutes later, Sam runs out and returns with the pizza, and then you, Dean, Sam, and Cass eat and drink and just hang out. It’s pure. It’s real.

And it’s everything you need right now.

You look at Dean as he laughs around a giant bite of food. His eyes sparkle and the corners of them crinkle more and more the harder he laughs. You silently admire every little detail of him. His arms, his shoulders, his hair, his ears, his nose, his lips. Sometimes it still surprises you just how much he gets to you. He and Sam are laughing at old memories and inside jokes that you don’t even understand, and you don’t even need to. You just look at the joy on their faces and it makes you smile. Dean shoots you a glance as he wraps his mouth around the tip of his beer bottle and takes a sip, and the look gives you butterflies.

And you don’t know it, but the look you’re giving him back gives him butterflies, too. He admires the light in your eyes and the brightness of your smile. All he can think - even now, in the midst of all the chaos - is how incredibly lucky he is that he landed you. You don’t know that he’s still gotta pinch himself every morning to prove to himself that he isn’t dreaming. You don’t know how god damn beautiful you are to him. And you don’t know how much he loves you.

The four of you continue this way for hours, and the time seems to fly. You know that there’s still research you should be doing. But hey, if Lucifer really might be coming someday soon, you sure as Hell want to enjoy every last minute you can with these boys.

Somehow, you all end up on the topic of when you and the boys first met. As you all begin to think back, Dean lets out an almost nostalgic chuckle.

“What?” You ask.

“Nothin’,” He chuckles again, “Nothin’, it’s just… you remember those first couple hunts together? You…” He looks at Sam, who is now smiling too, and then back to you, “You absolutely scared the shit out of both of us.”

With that, Sam chuckles as well as he begins to nod. You look at Cass, who is now smiling too, and you can’t help but laugh along with them.

“I mean it, though,” Dean insists with a smile, “You were so… intense and wild and…”

“Reckless?” You ask with a smirk, raising your eyebrows.

“Yeah.” He says, his eyes admiring you as he does.

“It’s true,” Sam chimes in, “I mean… at first, we kinda thought you were crazy.”

You just laugh again.

“Yeah,” Dean rasps, “But then, I realized… you weren’t crazy. You were just… like us.”

He and Sam exchange knowing looks, and then he looks back at you and goes on.

“I know this whole apocalypse thing is a mess. Hell, life’s always a mess and the worlds always about to end for us. But that’s what made us all fit so well. That’s what made this, you and us, work from the beginning. That’s how I knew you were meant to be with us.”

“That’s how WE knew.” Sam corrects with a smile.

“And this may all go to Hell. Killing the Devil.” Dean says, his eyes intense. “This is a shot in the dark and we might not have a snowball’s chance... but I do know that the best chance this world is ever gonna have... is all of us.” He finishes, looking around at Sam, then Cass, then you.

“Team Free Will.” Cass states proudly.

Sam and Dean raise their eyebrows at Cass, smiling as they, too, remember the name Dean had given them all those years ago.

You smile, but furrow your brows in curiosity.

“Team Free Will?” You ask.

“It’ll make sense to you. Trust me.” Dean drawls, grinning at you. “You’re part of it now, Sweetheart.”

You don’t know what it means, but as you look around at them, you know you like it. And you know you’re proud to be a part of it.

“Yeah,” You sigh. “Now this team just needs to figure out a plan to ice Satan.”

And out of nowhere, a voice sounds from behind you.

“I have one.”

You all freeze, recognizing his terrifyingly witty tone instantly.

“How about we just get this party started right now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, it's time!!!!
> 
> Finally, right?


	52. Chapter 52

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finally time for the face off against Lucifer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> I know, I left you with a cliffhanger that last chapter, then took my sweet time with this one. I'm sorry. It's a big one and I just HAD to get it right.
> 
> So I really hope I did.
> 
> Please enjoy.

As soon as you hear his voice, your eyes connect in a split second with Dean’s. You can read the panic all over his face, and you know he sees it on yours, too.

Instinctively, you all jump to your feet, but none of you move any more than that. You’re all tense, defensive, and alert. You feel your heart in your throat and pounding against your ribcage all at once as your eyes finally land on him.

He’s looking around at all of you, a satisfied smile on his face. His eyes glance around the big, open room, and he inhales deeply through his nose as he takes everything in.

“Ahhh.” He exhales with a pleased grin, crossing his arms and taking a step forward. “Finally.”

He looks at you, uncrossing his arms and pointing at you.

“Told you I was coming.”

You clench your jaw and glare at him.

His eyes stay connected with yours for a few long seconds, as if he’s trying to intimidate you into looking away first.

It doesn’t work.

And when it doesn’t, he just looks at Sam, a grin once again spreading across his face.

“Sammy. Have you missed me as much as I’ve missed you?” He croons.

Sam swallows hard, but uses all the sass and defiance he can muster in his response.

“Not at all.”

Lucifer pouts slightly and clutches his chest.

“Ouch, Sammy. You always did know how to cut me deep.” He says.

Then, his eyes bounce over to Castiel.

“Hello, brother.” His eyes light up as he looks Cass up and down. “You smell like fresh grace.” Then, his eyes darken. “Too bad that won’t help you today.”

Cass doesn’t respond, he just stands up even straighter and stares right back at Lucifer.

Lucifer looks at Dean.

Dean clenches his jaw and his fists, breathing roughly through his nose and looking at Lucifer with a fire in his eyes.

“Easy there, tiger. You might pull something.” Lucifer jests.

And then he looks back at you.

“Well, Y/N. Shall we do this?”

Suddenly, he begins to walk toward you. Instinctively, Dean leaps in front of you and begins to barrel at Lucifer. With a flick of his wrist, Lucifer sends Dean flying to his right, crashing to the ground and sliding hard into a bookcase. You look at Dean, concerned, and Sam and Cass jump in as well.

“Dean!” Sam tries to run toward Dean, but Lucifer just sends him flying in the other direction. He hits the wall and crumples to the ground, and Lucifer doesn’t even look at him.

He just continues striding up to you. You back up quickly, feeling yourself back into the table. As you do, you see Cass lift his arm, extending his hand and trying to use any power he has to slow Lucifer down. Lucifer pauses, taking his focus off of you long enough to look at Cass.

He just narrows his eyes at Cass as he extends his own hand, and you instantly see Cass’ muscles tense and he grunts out, trying to fight whatever force Lucifer is using against him. While Lucifer is distracted, you try to make your way further down the table as subtly as possible. Cass can only fight Lucifer for a few brief seconds before Lucifer sends him flying backward as well.

Immediately, Lucifer’s attention is right back on you. He rushes at you, and you try to rush toward the end of the table, but he reaches you in seconds. He obviously can’t use his powers on you, and you both know that, so instead he grabs you by the shoulders and throws you back against the table, hard. You gasp out as the air is knocked from your body, and you grip the table hard on either side to steady yourself. He’s inches from you now, glaring down into your eyes, and intimidating air radiating off of him.

“I told you it was always going to end like this, Y/N.” He whispers.

You narrow your eyes at him, as you see Dean silently getting up and making his way behind Lucifer.

“Yeah, well it’s not over yet, dick.” You whisper back.

Just then, Dean whips around from behind Lucifer and brings his fist forward, connecting it with Lucifer’s jaw and knocking him back slightly. Cass and Sam are still on the ground where Lucifer had thrown them, but they just look on in shocked silence as Lucifer grabs his face and slowly turns to look at Dean.

Dean’s looking back at him cockily, his signature smirk on his lips. He grins a little wider as he swings again, once again hitting Lucifer right across the cheek. Lucifer clutches his face once more, looking at Dean in quiet disbelief. Dean just stands up straighter, hiding any hint of fear behind his confident smirk.

As Dean and Lucifer stare each other down, you slowly make your way just a little further down the table.

“Now, you know that wasn’t smart, Dean.” Lucifer says condescendingly. “Just because my powers can’t hurt Y/N, doesn’t mean they can’t hurt you. I mean, really, who do you think you are?” He growls.

Dean looks at you briefly, and you nod at him. He winks at you, then looks back at Lucifer, the grin still on his face.

“I think I’m the distraction.” Dean drawls. “Because we had an idea you might be coming, you stupid son of a bitch.”

Lucifer furrows his brows at Dean in confusion, just as you reach underneath the end of the table behind you and pull out the angel blade that you and the boys tucked underneath it only hours before.

From that second on, everything seems to move in slow motion.

Lucifer turns to look at you, and you lift the blade, looking into his eyes as you do, and then you plunge it into is chest.

You feel all of the boys looking on in anticipation. Everyone is holding their breath, including you, and you swear for a second the only thing you can hear is the collective pounding of your hearts.

Lucifer’s eyes go wide as the blade pierces his chest. He looks down at it in pure shock, then brings his wide eyes back up to meet yours, the absolute terror overflowing from them when he does.

But nothing happens.

He doesn’t die.

It doesn’t kill him.

It didn’t work.

After a few long seconds, that becomes clear to everyone, and the pit that you feel in your stomach makes you sick.

Wide-eyed, you look at Dean. His bright green eyes are looking back into yours, the pure fear and disbelief evident in them. Then, you look over at Sam and Cass, now standing at the end of the table, and see the same expression on their faces as well.

Lucifer pulls blade out slowly, and a terrifying grin spreads across his face when he does.

“I’ll admit, you had me for a second.” He jeers. “I actually didn’t know if you’d be able to kill me either! But, now that we’ve established you can’t, that makes all of this SO. MUCH. BETTER!”

In an instant, he turns to Dean, throwing the angel blade at him, and through his right shoulder with such a force that it pins him against the wall behind him.

“NO!” You scream, the pure fear and concern rising in you as you watch Dean groan and grunt against the pain in his shoulder and Lucifer’s force now pinning him to the wall.

Less than a second later, he sends Cass and Sam flying against the wall as well, right next to Dean, and you instinctively begin to rush toward the three of them.

But before you can, Lucifer stands directly between you and them.

“Ah, ah, I don’t think so.” He sneers. “Sit down.”

He flicks his fingers, dragging a chair from the table right up behind you. You just glare at him, then look at the boys, helpless and struggling against his hold.

He narrows his eyes at you, frustrated by your lack of obedience, and lifts his left hand, slowly clenching it into a fist. As soon as he does, all three of the boys cry out in pain, squeezing their eyes closed and writhing beneath his hold.

Your eyes go wide once more, the pit in your stomach only growing further. You look at Lucifer, your eyes a mixture of hatred and fear, and he lowers his voice to a whisper.

“I said sit down.”

What can you do? It’s not like you can run for a weapon, now that it’s become clear nothing you wield against him will hurt him. You can’t disobey him, when any flick of his wrist or clench of his fist will hurt the boys even more. In this moment, you’re out of options.

So you do as he says. You sit.

And as soon as you do, a satisfied grin once again appears on his lips.

“Atta girl.” He quips with a wink.

Then, he spins around and approaches Sam, all the while still torturing the boys, the three of them still grunting and squirming in pain.

“Just like old times, eh, Sammy?” He asks, his smile still wide.

All Sam can do is glare at him as the pain continues to course through his veins. Lucifer turns his attention to Castiel.

“And you, brother. You continue to betray me, betray your own FAMILY for these guys? There really must have been something off when Dad was making you.”

Cass glares at him.

“Yeah, well…” Dean grunts, “At least he’s not Daddy’s biggest disappointment.”

Lucifer’s head snaps to look at Dean, and Dean manages to snarl out a snarky smirk around pained winces.

It terrifies you, watching him mock Lucifer as he tortures them. Watching him do exactly as you would do, as you have done, countless times. It fills you both with dread and with adoration as he stays true to himself and his attitude, even through this.

As if he senses this, Lucifer turns around to look at you. His smile widens further as he rotates his fingers as if turning up a dial, and you watch in horror as the blade in Dean’s shoulder rotates slowly. Dean screws his eyes closed and grunts out in agony, clearly trying to bite back the larger scream that wants to escape his lips.

You gasp, your chest heaving and your heart in your throat, wanting to scream out for it to stop, but knowing that will only please Lucifer even further. You look at him, and you see the satisfaction and joy behind his eyes.

“I told you I would make you watch, Y/N. I told you, no matter what you did, that we would end up just like this.” His clenches his fist once more, and once more the boys growl out in pain.

You clench your jaw, glaring into his eyes, the helplessness and the rage in the pit of your stomach making you want to scream.

“But you didn’t listen to me,” He says, pointing at you briefly as he begins to casually pace back and forth in front of the boys. “You were too busy trying to find some way to kill me. Or trying to find Michael.” He glances at Cass when he says that, then looks back to you, but you offer him no response.

“Oh, come on! I know you can’t tell me you’re not curious about where he is! About why the determined Castiel had absolutely NO luck finding him!”

When you refuse to answer him yet again, he sighs.

“Well, he’s dead. I killed him myself.”

You can’t help the look of surprise that flashes across your face, and you notice through their pain that the boys are surprised as well. This elicits another smile from Lucifer.

“Yup, that’s right.” He says, crossing his arms with pride. “See, everyone was so sure that he’d beat me way back when our little scuffle was supposed to take place up here on Earth.”

You listen intently, not because you’re impressed by him or anything he’s saying, but because you realize that every second you spend intently listening to him is a second he isn’t upping his torture of the boys.

“But Hell? The cage? Well, that was my turf. I had home field advantage. And after Sammy left,” He glances at Sam almost longingly, who shoots back a disgusted glance in return, “Well, I had nothing left to do but take all of my frustrations out on my dear older brother. I thought it would be hard – killing him – but it really wasn’t. In fact,” He grins wider, “It’s made me so much stronger.”

He clenches his fist once more and the boys growl out again, this time huffing and panting, hardly able to catch their breath through the pain. Their screams cut through you to your core, and your heart feels as if it’s being torn from your chest as they writhe against the wall.

“So now,” Lucifer goes on, “There’s no brother for me to battle. There are no archangels strong enough to take me on. There is nothing in my way from taking over the whole world.” He stops, suddenly glaring at you.

“Nothing but you, that is.” You swallow hard once more as he takes a few steps closer to you. “The pesky little girl who kept me locked down there for years. Who is somehow IMMUNE to my powers. Who’s aligned herself with the very people who locked me back down there last time.”

You just look at him, once more refusing to respond.

“What, no witty comeback?” He asks, “No smart ass remark?”

He looks over at the boys, struggling against the wall, and his smile returns.

“Oh, that’s right.” He looks back at you. “I guess you only have an attitude when it’s your life on the line, huh?”

He squeezes his fist again, and the boys choke out more groans of pain. You watch as all three of them choke and cough, and you see blood on their lips. As if he is literally squeezing the life out of them. You shake your head, your desperation becoming harder and harder to hide. You look at Dean, the blood now dripping from his mouth as well as his shoulder. Through his haze of agony, he looks at you, and the pain in his eyes knocks the air from your lungs.

Just as you’re about to begin begging Lucifer to stop, Crowley appears.

“Well, boys, I’ve thought it over and I-“ Crowley stops mid-sentence as he realizes what he’s just walked into. His eyes go wide at the scene, and they go even wider when they fall on Lucifer.

“Bollocks.” He mutters.

Lucifer’s face lights up.

“Crowley! How nice of you to join us. I can’t say it surprises me that you and the boys have been teaming up against me, bottom-feeding snake that you are.”

Crowley swallows hard.

“Would you believe this is nothing more than a classic case of wrong place, wrong time?” He asks with a shaky chuckle.

You look at the boys once more, watching as the life is literally being wrung from their bodies. You look at Dean, his tired eyes trying desperately to communicate with you through all that pain. And you know what they’re saying.

Run.

And maybe he’s right. This may be your only chance.

With Lucifer still distracted by Crowley, you leap up from the chair and sprint down the hallway. Lucifer whirls around to look at you, frustrated for only a moment before his smile returns and he pins Crowley to the wall next to the boys. Crowley hits the wall with a loud grunt, the terror all over his face as he looks at the struggling boys.

“Oh, Y/N?” Lucifer calls out playfully. “Where do you think you’re going? You know there’s no escape.”

You hear him calling after you as you bolt toward your room, and you take that as an opportunity to hopefully distract him from the boys.

“You want me?” You shout back, “Well come and get me!”

Lucifer turns to the boys, smiling.

“Well, gentlemen, seems Y/N has offered you just a little break.”

With that, he snaps his fingers and the boys stop writhing in pain, now gasping for air around tired, pained grunts. They still remain firmly under Lucifer’s hold, pinned against the wall, but the pain has been slightly lessened.

“Stay put.” He mocks, before turning away from them to follow you down the hall.

“Fine, Y/N!” He calls, continuing down the hall, “You know how to keep it interesting, I’ll give ya that! I’ll play along.”

You run to your room, knowing you’re completely out of his sight at the moment. The one small advantage you have right now is that you know this place, and he doesn’t. You stop in the middle of the room, panting heavily, mind racing.

And suddenly, you look at your dresser.

At the bowl of ingredients, and the spell laying out right next to them.

The spell you promised Dean you wouldn’t use.

Without even processing what you’re doing, you grab the ingredients and the spell, rushing back to the library with them. When you enter the library, you’re relieved to see that Lucifer is nowhere in sight.

“Oh, Y/N! Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

Another wave of relief washes over you when you hear him, and you hear that he sounds far away, deep in the hallways of the bunker.

You drop to your knees next to the table and in front of the boys, placing the bowl of ingredients down onto the floor and tightly gripping the paper with the spell.

The boys all realize what you’re doing at once, and you can see the concern wash over them when they do.

“Y/N, NO!” Dean yells, and it comes out as more of a broken plea than a demand.

You don’t say anything to them, you just look at them as you begin to recite spell. They protest, begging you to stop and desperately pulling against the force holding them to the wall, but you ignore them. You just continue with the spell, saying it as quickly as you possibly can.

You’re not even truly thinking about what you’re doing.

Your body is working before your brain is fully catching up.

All you know right now is that you’re out of other options, and you need to save them.

Just as you recite the last word of the spell, you see the boys’ eyes all go wide and you feel a cold blade press against your neck from behind.

You freeze, and you hear Lucifer chuckle from behind you.

“Gotcha.” He boasts. “Stand up.”

You stand slowly, swallowing hard and looking at the terrified boys as you do.

“Normally, I have no need to bring weapons with me anywhere.” Lucifer explains cockily, “But I knew having one on me around YOU would be a good idea.” He presses the blade against your throat a little harder and you inhale sharply at the feeling.

He glances down at the bowl of ingredients, and anger flashes across his face.

“And what is that?” He growls.

You don’t answer, and he sighs impatiently.

“You could have made this all a whole lot easier on yourself, Y/N. I brought you back for a reason. I told you, I like you. I didn’t wanna hurt you, I just wanted to keep my eye on you. Make sure you didn’t... do anything like THIS.” He gestures toward the bowl. “But you just had to be stubborn, just had to choose the Winchesters. And now, just like I promised, you’re gonna watch as I kill them, nice and slow and painful.”

Still holding the knife against your throat with one hand, he clenches his other fist, harder than he has thus far, and all four of them scream out in pure agony. They close their eyes, clench their jaws, and thrash against the anguish that you can tell is radiating through every inch of their bodies.

You feel a panic like you never have before.

They’re dying.

He’s killing them.

Right in front of you.

Your heart pounds and your wide eyes look at all of them, before landing on Dean.

He looks back at you, focusing his gaze on yours despite his overwhelming pain, and you see the sadness in his eyes as he silently communicates with you once more.

But this time, he’s saying goodbye.

You look down at the bowl of ingredients again. Deep down, in the pit of your stomach, you know what you need to do.

To save the Winchesters, and hopefully the world.

“Quite the mess, huh Y/N?” Lucifer taunts from behind you, still holding the blade to your throat. “And it’s all your fault, really.”

You clench your jaw and try to pull away from him, but he just presses the knife harder.

“Don’t move too much.” He advises condescendingly, “I may not be able to hurt you on my own, but I’m betting this knife will still cut you pretty deep, hm?”

And then it dawns on you.

“I don’t know...” You breathe, feeling your heart pounding harder with each passing second, “Why don’t we find out?”

With that, you head butt Lucifer from behind, sending the back of your head crashing into the bridge of his nose. He grunts in surprise and stumbles backward just enough for you to grab the hand that’s holding the knife.

You look at the boys apologetically for one more brief second, as you see the pure horror all over their faces.

And then you slice both of your wrists.

“NO!” Dean bellows so loudly it’s as if he can’t even feel his own pain anymore.

The boys are all wide-eyed – even Lucifer – as you drop to your knees and the let the blood pour out and pool into the bowl in front of you.

And just then, the ground begins to rumble, and a very small opening begins to form on the floor in front of you.

Lucifer’s eyes go even wider, and then he narrows them at you in frustration and rage. However, his anger quickly subsides as he looks down at you, the blood still quickly pouring from your arms, and then around the room.

He realizes how slowly the door is opening, and therefore how much of your blood will be required to open it enough to throw him in.

You feel lightheaded already as the blood leaves your body and pools into the bowl in front of you.

Lucifer grins wider than he has all night, and a satisfied chuckle escapes his lips.

“Well, if this isn’t just the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.” He mocks. “You did it! I mean, you all managed to find a spell to open the cage back up. You’re even willing to give your life for it!” He says, studying you.

“But now...” He goes on, sounding almost amazed, “There’s no one left to give me that last little shove. Is there?”

You see the door to the cage widening ever so slowly, and you squeeze your eyes closed and lean your head against the table next to you, feeling more woozy by the second as the river of blood continues to flow.

Lucifer laughs again.

“I mean, I don’t even need to stop you from doing this, because you’re literally killing yourself as you do it! No matter how wide you open that door, not one of you will be able to push me in!”

He laughs again, and the boys and Crowley just look between you and him in a panic, realizing he might be right. No matter how hard they pull against his hold on them, it’s no use. They can’t break free.

You open your eyes and look at Dean, seeing the horror in his eyes as he desperately tries to struggle against the knife in his shoulder and Lucifer’s hold on him. You can see how badly he wants to rush over to you, to stop you from doing this.

You shake your head at him, your eyes giving him a million apologies, your heart aching.

“For all your craftiness and all your spunk, you just couldn’t quite pull it off, could you?” Lucifer ridicules. “I mean... you were THIS CLOSE.”

You try to tune him out, to focus on staying conscious, but it’s becoming more and more difficult. You look at the door, and you realize it’s almost wide enough to fit Lucifer through.

Which also means you’ve lost almost half the blood in your body.

“Honestly... I’m a little sad about it.” Lucifer goes on, reveling in the hopelessness of your situation. “There was truly something special about you. But you just couldn’t do it. And now you’re going to die. And these boys are going to die. And the rest of the world is going to die along with them.”

You look at the boys once more as you hear Lucifer’s words.

No.

You can’t quit. Not now.

You’ll do whatever it takes for them. And not even the Devil himself is going to stop you.

Once you’re sure that enough blood is in the bowl and the door is open wide enough, you try to stand.

Slowly, you clamor to your feet, but as soon as you’re vertical, you fall to the side, catching yourself on the table and leaning over it, and it becomes the only thing holding you up.  
The boys look on in surprise, and Lucifer raises his eyebrows at you.

He chuckles at you as he looks you up and down.

“Are… Are you still trying to win?” He scoffs.

You squeeze your eyes closed to force them to focus, but when you do, you feel like you’re going to fall right back down again.

You hear Lucifer chuckle some more as you struggle to stay upright against the table.

“Please, Y/N, trust me, we all know you’re not a quitter.” He mocks once more. “You’ve proven your point. It’s really just getting pathetic now.”

You open your eyes and look down at your forearms, watching the blood still oozing from your wrists. Your knees are weak, your legs are shaking, your head is swimming. Your senses are overwhelmed by the coppery smell of your own blood and the wind that is now whipping around the room from the door to the cage. For a second, you think this may be it. You think you may collapse right now. You’re certain if you wanted to let go, you could be dead before you even hit the ground.

But then you look at Dean again.

Really look at him.

And despite the look of pure horror on his face, all you can think about is the way he looks when he smiles.

You think about the first time you truly looked into his eyes, on that very first night in Missouri. The way you really saw him, in a way that you’ve never seen anyone before.

You think about that first hunt together, when he patched you up for the first time of many. The way it surprised you how gentle he could be.

You think about the way he and Sam let you in. The way they told you about their lives and their struggles and their losses and their wins, and even more amazingly, the way they convinced you to open up right back.

You think about them inviting you to come live in the bunker. About how scared you were to accept the offer, but only because you already cared so much about them.

You think about that night on the Impala with Dean, watching the stars, listening to your favorite music, trying desperately to fight the fact that you knew, deep down, that you were already helplessly in love with him.

You think about the first time you made love. The way it took your breath away and somehow also made you feel like you could finally breathe for the first time. Just like every time since.

You think about the way he put you back together after the kind of suffering that completely tore you apart.

You think about the first time he told you he loved you, and the way you knew you’d never be the same after hearing those words.

You remember dying in order to bring him back to you. And you think about the fact that you’d do it again, a million times over.

You remember finally seeing him again, after four months apart, and the way it filled you with the kind of joy you didn’t even know a person could feel.

You think about the thrill you get every time you’re hunting alongside him.

You think about the way he kisses you, the way he holds you, the way he can make you laugh until your sides hurt, the sound of his laugh and the crinkle of his eyes and the freckles on his skin and the sage and amber flecked hue of his irises.

You think about the fact that you’ve smiled more in your time with him than you have in your entire life before him.

And you realize something.

He told you that you were the one who would always bring him back.

But right here, right now, he’s the one bringing you back.

God decided your fate. He planned for you to suffer for most of your life. He planned for you to be the seal on Lucifer’s cage. For the weight of the world to be on your shoulders. And he planned for this spell to kill you.

But he didn’t plan for you to find these boys when you did.

He didn’t plan for you to fall in love with Dean.

And he didn’t plan that your bond with these boys would be enough to keep you fighting, even when your fate is to die.

Well, fuck fate.

You’re doing this your way.

You get it now - Team Free Will.

Suddenly, you push yourself off of the table and you stand up straight. Everyone looks shocked, including Lucifer. You look at Dean, shoot him a reassuring smile, then turn back to Lucifer. You take a confident step toward him, and he steps backwards.

You smirk at him.

“What’s wrong, Lucy?” You jeer.

He doesn’t answer, clearly dumbfounded by the strength you’ve found within yourself when really, you should be dead.

“See, here’s the thing...” You go on, glaring deep into his eyes as you do. “You think because we have this connection, because I was the seal on your cage… that you know me. But you don’t.”

You take another step toward him, your eyes laced with a fire that you can tell has caught him off guard.

“You haven’t seen what I’ve been through. What I’ve survived.” You seethe, “You’re so cocky, you actually brought me back. You sealed your own fate when you did that, you know that?

He angrily swings knife at you, but you block the blow and knock the knife out of his hand and across the room. This whole time, the boys are still looking on in pure shock, amazed and astonished by every word out of your mouth and every step you take.

“Don’t forget,” You say, “Your powers don’t work on me. So, really, to me, you’re just another pompous, conceited, whiny, entitled, son of a bitch.”

Lucifer clenches his jaw and glares at you, trying to mask his obvious insecurity with anger.

“And you wanna know what I do with those?” You ask.

You smirk at him as you take yet another step forward, narrowing your eyes and lowering your voice to a whisper.

“I kick their asses.”

With that, you swing at him full force, and your fist collides with his cheek. He stumbles backward slightly, looking surprised but thoroughly enraged, and he lunges at you as well. He hits you in the stomach and you grunt at the loss of air, but you’re still able to block him when he tries to hit you in the face. You swing at him once more, once again nailing him in the cheek.

You have no idea how you’re still going. You’re running on adrenaline and anger and more than anything, on your love for the boys.

The sound from the cage is still overwhelming, and the wind still whips throughout the room.

You hit him again, even harder, and you can see the shock on his face. No human has ever been able to hurt him, but you’re doing it. You’re kicking his ass. And he absolutely hates it. He swings at you and you duck, coming up and hitting him directly in the nose.

And that blow must be a good one, because it rocks him enough that his hold on the boys falters. 

Sam, Cass, and Crowley are able to push themselves off the wall. They look over at Dean, who’s still pinned to the wall by the angel blade through his shoulder, but just then Lucifer lands a blow to your stomach and then your face, knocking you against the table.

The boys all see this, and Sam, Cass, and Crowley look at Dean once more, uneasily.

“Go!” He grunts. “Help her, NOW!”

They nod, and rush over to you and Lucifer, who now has a handful of your hair as you feel your vision beginning to blur and more blood leaves your body.

Cass is the first to reach you, and he grabs Lucifer by the shoulders, dragging him off of you just as Sam rushes forward to grab you and see if you’re alright.

Lucifer growls at Cass, flicking his wrist and sending Cass flying into one of the bookshelves. Before Sam can even ask if you’re alright, Lucifer does the same to Sam, and you watch him hit the wall with a force that knocks him unconscious.

You look at Crowley, and you can tell he hasn’t quite made up his mind whether he wants to help or wants to escape while he has the chance. But just as Lucifer is about to swing on you once more, you look into Crowley’s eyes and you watch him make up his mind. He picks up the knife that had fallen to the ground in the scuffle, and rushes forward, plunging it into Lucifer’s back just as Lucifer is about to hit you once more.

Although Crowley knows damn well the knife won’t kill Lucifer, it’s enough to distract him from you. He whirls around, snarling at Crowley as he clenches his fist and Crowley cries out in pain, dropping to his knees and struggling to breathe.

That distraction is all it takes for you to find your footing once more, and you swing at Lucifer from behind, hitting him in the head. When his hold on Crowley fades, Crowley crumples to the ground in agony and it’s once again just you and Lucifer.

He growls at you, grabbing you by the throat and slamming your back against the table.

Dean looks on, wide-eyed, as he pulls at the blade so deeply embedded in his shoulder and the wall. He growls out and winces in pain as he uses all the strength he has to pull on it, trying desperately to get it out so that he can come help you.

“I underestimated you, I’ll admit.” Lucifer seethes, squeezing your throat and making you even more light-headed than you already were. “But I’m still the God damn Devil.”

He pulls his fist back, ready to hit you once more, but you manage to knee him in the stomach and loosen his hold on you.

Dean’s still struggling, and gasps in both pain and relief when he finally feels the blade begin to loosen. He groans in agony as he tugs on it harder, in pure desperation, watching you continue to battle Lucifer.

You hit Lucifer again, and again, and he begins to stumble backward toward the cage door. You hit him once more, and he looks at you, wide-eyed, as the heels of his feet now teeter over the edge.

You smirk at him and narrow your eyes as the wind whips your hair and you lean toward him.

“Go to Hell.” You whisper.

You shove his chest as hard as you can, and he flies backwards, falling into the hole behind him. But as he does, he grips your wrist, and your eyes widen as you realize what he’s doing.

Dragging you down with him.

You feel yourself losing your own footing as he tugs you down while he falls, and eventually your feet are pulled out from beneath you. You fall forward, feeling the darkness sucking you down as you do.

And then you feel someone grip your other hand so firmly, and pull so hard, that Lucifer loses his grip on you and you watch as he plummets down into nothingness.

You turn around to see whose handing is tightly gripping your own. Who saved your life.

Dean.

Time stops for a second as you look into each other’s eyes. Then, he grabs your face in his hands, inhaling deeply and desperately as he presses his lips urgently against yours. When he pulls away, he squeezes his eyes closed and he wraps his arms around you as tightly as he can, his jaw quivering and his muscles tense.

And then the two of you crumble to the ground in each other’s arms, both of you overwhelmed by pain and blood loss.

His eyes are studying you in concern, and yours are doing the same to him.

Cass, Sam, and Crowley rush up to the two of you, looking on in amazement. You and Dean both look at Cass.

“Cass, heal her!”

“Cass, heal him!”

The two of you shout at the same time.

You and Dean smirk at each other slightly, despite your panic, and Cass kneels, pressing his fingers to both of your foreheads and closing his eyes.

After a few seconds, both yours and Dean’s wounds have disappeared.

The two of you look at each other, relieved, and then you look at Cass.

“Thank you.” You breathe with an earnest smile, and he smiles back.

But when you look back at Dean, you see concern still in his eyes.

As if he knows what Dean is thinking, Cass states, “I cannot do anything about the blood loss.”

Dean looks at Cass, then Sam, then you, the fear in his eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay.” You whisper, realizing how awful you must look. “It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere, alright?”

Dean looks as if he doesn’t believe you, but you grab his hand and squeeze, your eyes silently telling him everything he needs to know, and you see him relax slightly.

“I promised you I wasn’t leaving you again, didn’t I?” You breathe, smiling at him.

It’s then that you realize all four of them are staring at you in pure wonder.

“What?” You ask.

“How…” Sam looks at the blood – your blood – all over the room. “Why did you do that? How did you…”

“Well,” You answer, “Crowley said the spell required enough blood to kill the average person. I just figured… I never really have been all that average.” You smirk at them all, and slowly, they smile back.

And it's true.

You've never lived like an average person. So, it makes sense you wouldn't die like one either.

“Sweetheart,” Dean drawls, shaking his head in awe, “You are truly somethin’ else.”

“Yes, and that SOMETHING is reckless, wild, and bloody INSANE!” Crowley exclaims.

You raise your eyebrows at him.

“You stuck around.” You say. “You could’ve bolted.”

He sighs.

“Yes, well, I suppose you’ve brought the hero out of me, love.”

All three of the other boys groan and roll their eyes, but Crowley just looks at you.

“Good work.” He says with a wink, and then he’s gone.

Dean slowly helps you to your feet, and you look around at the mess all around you. It’s almost hard to believe everything that just happened in this room.

All three of the boys are still looking at you in amazement.

“So, Y/N,” Sam says, “How does it feel to have single-handedly saved the world?”

You scoff and grin at him.

“It wasn’t single-handedly. Trust me. You guys… you’re the reason I was able to do it.” You look at them genuinely, and they return your gaze.

“But honestly?” You say with a mischievous smirk, “It feels like I could use a damn drink.”

They all chuckle at that, and Dean wraps an arm around your waist, smiling as he studies your eyes and brings his face closer to yours.

“That’s my girl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it.
> 
> I'm still not done, not yet.
> 
> Promise.


	53. Chapter 53

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reader and the boys react to everything that happened with Lucifer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> I know, I know. I've got some explaining to do. So sorry for taking a sudden break without warning! Life gets crazy sometimes as we all know, and mine got very busy pretty suddenly. Plus, I'd be lying if I said I didn't also have some writer's block.
> 
> BUT I'm back now, and I can't tell you how much I've missed you guys and this story. I hope you can forgive me and that you're still on this ride with me.
> 
> Please enjoy!

You and the boys sit at the table for a while and sip on your drinks, all of you just trying to wrap your minds around everything that just occurred. You find yourself occasionally glancing at the mess the library has become. Chairs and tables knocked over, weapons scattered on the floor, the bowl of ingredients for the spell, and most of all - the blood.

Your blood.

Everywhere.

The longer you look at it, the more it sinks in just how much of it you lost. Just how close you were to dying. Again.

And then, you look back at the boys and you’re reminded why you’re still alive. Sure, it could be because you’re extra tough because of all the things you’ve been through. It could be because God has taken a special interest in you. It could be plenty of things.

But, deep down, you know it’s because of the boys. Your love for them gave you the strength you needed to hold on.

To them, and to your life with them.

In your mindless gazing at them, you find Dean staring intently right back at you. There’s an adoration in his eyes, mixed with what can only be described as fear.

You furrow your brows at him, wondering why he still looks so afraid when the Devil is finally locked back in the box and you’re all still alive to appreciate it. It’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about that look on his face, though, when he clears his throat and abruptly looks away from you.

“We, uh…” He glances around the room, “We should probably get this place cleaned up.”

Sam chuckles breathlessly and nods in agreement as he, too, looks around.

“Yeah, I’d say so.” He states.

Cass stands up, glancing around at the three of you.

“I need to inform the angels that Lucifer is secured back in the cage. And that… that Michael is dead. They’ll need to know. And we’ll need to figure out what’s next for Heaven.”

He hesitates for a second, before looking earnestly at you.

“I’m… very glad you’re still here, Y/N.”

You smile up at him.

“Thanks, buddy. I’m pretty glad about it too.”

With that, he nods at you, then the boys, and then he’s gone.

“Of course he decides to zap himself away when it’s time to clean the place up!” Dean calls out to the air as he and Sam stand and begin to clean the room.

You chuckle and start to stand as well, when he rushes over to you and puts a hand firmly on your shoulder, pushing you back down into your seat.

“Oh, ho, ho, I don’t think so, Sweetheart. Not you. You just sit right there.” He commands.

You raise your eyebrows at him.

“Dean, I can help. I mean it IS my blood.” You jest.

“Which is exactly why you don’t need to help clean it up.” He responds with conviction, looking down at you. “You have done more than enough tonight. I’d say beatin’ the Devil in one-on-one combat and kickin’ his ass back into the Cage warrants a little more rest.”

“I second that.” Sam joins in from across the room as he picks up a chair.

You look between the two of them for a few seconds before sighing and picking your drink back up off the table.

“Fine.” You say before taking a sip.

You spend the next little while watching as the boys continue to straighten up the room. You watch Dean especially closely as he picks up the knife coated in your now-drying blood. He swallows hard as he looks down at it, then flicks his eyes over to you, clenching his jaw when he does. You once again look at him quizzically, which snaps him out of his trance long enough for him to help Sam finish cleaning.

Once they’re done, Dean reclaims his seat next to you and Sam announces how exhausted he is and that he’s decided to head to bed. Before he does though, he strides up to you, pulls you up from your seat, and wraps his arms tightly around you. Although it catches you off guard, you find yourself immediately settling into the hug and hugging him right back. You feel him resting his chin on your head as he hugs you, and you stay this way for a few long seconds. Finally, he lets go and pulls himself away from you, clearing his throat as he looks down at you.

“Thanks for everything today. You, uh… you saved the world. And you saved us.”

You smirk up at him.

“Don’t worry, Ivy League. I won’t ever let anyone mess with you and get away with it.” You tease.

He lights up with a brilliant smile as he laughs at that, and nods at both you and Dean once more before heading down the hallway to bed.

With that, it’s just you and Dean in the library. The air is quiet, and it’s heavy. He looks at you, and you see him trying to mask the pain in his eyes and the stress exuding from him.

“We did it, tough guy.” You say quietly.

He smiles at that and subtly shakes his head.

“Nah.” He takes a swig of whiskey, “Nah... you did it. The whole world, saved because of you, Gorgeous.” He stares down at his glass as he says it.

You study him closely for a few seconds before leaning forward slightly, with an eyebrow raised.

“Yup. The whole world saved. And yet you still look like someone just ran over your dog.”

He looks up at you suddenly, a look of surprise in his eyes.

You smile slightly, “What, you think I don’t know you, Dean? Something is still bugging you. So, what is it?”

He looks at you, and you can see him deciding whether or not he wants to tell you what’s really going on.

Suddenly, he stands, grabs a bottle of whiskey in one hand, and reaches the other one out to you. You look at him in confusion.

“Well, you comin’ or what?” He asks, a small smile on the corner of his mouth.

You smile back, grabbing his hand and allowing him to lead you out of the bunker and into the garage. You continue to eye him suspiciously as he opens the door to Baby and ushers you in. He climbs in, too, backs out of the garage, and parks her in the grassy field just outside the bunker.  
Your confusion fades as you recall the last time he brought you out here. The way you watched the stars and listened to music and were completely and utterly terrified of how you already felt about him.

You turn to him and he smiles slightly again, before jumping out to open your door and guide you onto the hood of the Impala. Just like last time, he rushes back to the front seat, pops in his Seger mix tape, and returns to the hood of the car with the bottle of whiskey in his hand.

“Get a load of Prince Charming over here.” You say with a smirk as he sits himself next to you.

He chuckles slightly, but you can still see the unease all over his face as he takes a sip of the whiskey before handing the bottle to you.

You eye him closely as you take a sip as well. Once the burning of the liquor fades from your throat, you hand the bottle back to him and decide to speak up.

“So, you gonna tell me what’s wrong now?” You ask.

He looks at you, his green eyes full of emotion. He holds this gaze for a few long seconds before finally finding his voice.

“All I wanna do is keep you safe.” He croaks.

You furrow your brows, and he clarifies.

“All I wanna do is keep you safe… and it terrifies me that I can’t do that.”

You open your mouth to quip back, but he’s already taking the words right out of your mouth.

“And I know, I know…. You don’t need anyone keepin’ you safe because you can keep yourself safe.” He says. “And you keep Sammy safe. And Hell, you keep me safe, too.”

He pauses to take a deep breath, and you can see the pain all over his face.

“I just… I almost lost you again today, Y/N. I mean… the feeling I had, watching you-" His voice breaks slightly, and he stops to clear his throat. “Watching you bleed out on the floor right in front of me…”

He stares down at the bottle in his hand as he goes on.

“And now that I’ve lost you once, now that I really know what that feels like, I-" He furrows his brows, trying to fight the anguish he knows is showing in his features, before finally bringing his eyes up to once again meet yours.

“I cannot do it again. I can’t. I thought Sammy was my weakness, and he is. But you, Sweetheart… you are my god damn Achilles heel. You getting hurt - dying again - that will destroy me. I know it will, and you know it, too.”

You’re nervous. You have absolutely no clue where this conversation is going, and it scares you.

“What are you saying, Dean?” You ask, unable to mask the nerves in your voice. “Are you saying that this is a bad thing, you and me?”

He sips the whiskey and then he chuckles. The laugh catches you off guard.

“You and me is the greatest thing to ever happen to me.” He utters. “But yeah, I guess I’m saying that if we were smart, maybe we would take a step back from this before one of us loses the other again and can never recover.”

You can’t breathe. Is this man seriously dumping you after you just saved the world?

“But…” He rasps, looking deep into your eyes as he does.

“I guess that means I’m also sayin’ that I’m not smart at all. Because this…” He gestures between the two of you, “This is worth all of the pain and the risk. I’m sayin’ that after watchin’ you almost die again, I was thinkin’ that the old me would be kickin’ myself for being stupid enough to fall this far head over heels in the first place. The old me would tell me to cut and run and not look back, to avoid gettin’ hurt all over again. And yet… this me, right now – the one I am with you – the only thing I can seem to tell myself now is that all I wanna do is spend the rest of my life with you.”

His green eyes sparkle as they look into yours, and there’s an almost deafening silence after he speaks. Your heart races and your stomach flips. Just like it did the very first time you sat on this car under the stars with him. Just like it did the first time he kissed you. The first time he told you he loved you.

He looks almost nervous as he talks, and his cheeks flush a little when he goes on.

“Look, I don’t - I don’t have a ring or anythin’ and I’m not sayin’ we go run off to Vegas and get hitched. And I know, you and I, we’ll never have a normal life. We’ll never settle down together. Not really. Neither one of us could ever give hunting up. But, that’s why we work so well. I’m just… I just want to make it clear, in case it wasn’t before, that I have every intention of spendin’ the rest of my life with you. No matter how long or short that life may be. And I need you to know that will always be the case. No matter what happens.”

When he finishes, he studies your eyes intently, waiting for a response. But you just gaze at him as his words truly sink in.

He’s right. You can never settle down. You can’t have a white picket fence or a 9-5. But, that’s not what you want. You couldn’t do it if you tried. What you want is this life, right here, with him. It’s who you are. It’s who he is. And all you want to do is to spend every last minute of this life by his side.

He looks even more nervous when you don’t answer right away, and he can’t seem to stop himself from rambling on.

“I completely screwed this conversation up, didn’t I?” He asks. “I’ve- I mean I’ve never…” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Maybe I should’ve gotten a ring. I mean if any woman on the goddamn planet deserves a ring, it’s you. You deserve everything and here I am just-"

You lunge toward him suddenly, planting a long and loving kiss on his surprised lips. After a few seconds, you pull away and smile at him. And he grins back, all tension and unease leaving his features at once.

“Of course I plan to spend the rest of my life with you, handsome.” You murmur. “I kinda though that was already obvious.”

His smile gleams as he relaxes his shoulders, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close to him as the two of you lay back on the Impala’s hood. The two of you contentedly stare up at the sky for a moment before his deep voice sounds once more.

“I know we’ll never have some apple pie life together. But Sweetheart… fuck the pie. All I need is you.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise and lift your head to look at his face.

“Those are some bold words comin’ from you, Dean Winchester.” You say with a smirk, bringing your lips hardly an inch away from his.

You feel his breathing quicken and you see his thick lashes flicking as he studies your lips closely.

“But I gotta say…” You whisper, “This, right here, feels pretty apple pie to me.”

He grins and grabs your face, closing the distance between you and pressing his lips firmly against yours. The heat is instantaneous and the world begins to melt away as your lips move together. The bottle of whiskey rolls off the hood and clatters to the ground, but neither of you care. You’re both more intoxicated by each other, anyway.

He rolls on top of you, still holding your face tightly and kissing you passionately. As soon as he’s above you, you push his flannel off, and suddenly neither of you care that you’re outside in the open and neither of you can feel the chill in the air.

He lifts your shirt as he kisses down your neck, then his lips latch onto your nipple and you breathe shakily as your fingers tangle in his hair. He backs off the car, now standing at the end of the hood and staring down at you with eyes swimming with need and adulation.

Slowly, he slides his palms up the outside of your legs before hooking his fingers under your knees and pulling you forward so that you’re sitting at the edge of the Impala, with your legs straddling him. He takes your face in his hands and brings his lips to brush against yours.

“You’re stuck with me forever now, you know that right?” He whispers, raspy and breathless, the desire dripping from his words.

“I better be.” You breathe back, matching his desire with every word.

His lips crash into yours as he brings his hands down to begin unbuttoning your jeans. You return the favor and he begins pulling your jeans off of you as you’re shoving his down, both of you too caught up in need to bother with the rest of your clothes. Suddenly, your jeans are off and his are down and in one swift, flawless motion, he’s filling you.

You gasp in pleasure and he groans with a satisfaction you’ve never heard before. You wrap your legs around his hips and your arms around the middle of his back, pulling him further inside of you. His hands tangle in your hair as he holds you and brings his lips down to yours once more. In that same instant, he slowly begins to thrust inside you. Each motion is slow and deliberate, eliciting whines from deep within you as the pleasure shoots through your system and fills you up wholly.

He picks up his pace and the ecstasy snaps through you, surprising you, causing you to fling yourself backwards. Your shoulders are down against the hood of the car as your back arches up, your fingers splayed out and pressed firmly against the shiny metal as you try to keep yourself composed through the nearly unbearable bliss you feel.

He continues to pump into you, and looks down at you in pure wonder as he studies your reactions to his every move. One hand is tightly gripping the meat of your thigh as the other travels slowly up your side and rests on your throat. He isn’t squeezing, just holding you as he thrusts into you, trying to keep both you and himself steady as the pleasure washes over you both. You close your eyes and moan his name as he fills you up over and over again, and you can feel the coil within you about to snap.

He must feel you tightening around him, and he brings his hand from your neck up to your face, gripping your chin gently and running his thumb along your lower lip, pulling you out of your head to focus on him.

You open your eyes, and when he sees the pure ecstasy in them, he reaches around the back of your neck and pulls you suddenly forward, so that your face is now only inches from his and his fiery stare pierces through you.

“Look at me, Sweetheart.” He huffs. “I need you right here with me.”

You look deep into his eyes, and his commanding gaze alone pulls you closer to your breaking point. His hand continues to grip your thigh, the other firmly tangled in your hair as he continues to find that sweet spot inside of you. You gasp out and wrap your arms around his shoulders, digging your nails into him and wrapping your legs even more tightly around him.

When you do, you see the way the pleasure begins to take him over, completely consuming him, just as it’s completely consuming you.

With that, he grips you even tighter and moans out a “Fuck, Y/N!” as he falls over the edge, bringing you right along with him. You moan out his name in return and the two of you move together, riding out the waves of ecstasy in perfect rhythm, never once loosening your grip on each other.

Eventually, you fall back onto the hood of the Impala and he falls onto his back next to you, the two of you panting and your chests heaving as you once again stare up at the stars together.

After a few moments of catching his breath, he turns to look at you.

“Well, Gorgeous, I didn’t think anything could make this car any sexier than it already is. But you…” He exhales slowly, “You just did it.” He finishes with a signature cocky smirk.

You turn to him, smirking back.

“Oh, I’d say it was a team effort.” You breathe.

He chuckles as he gets up, getting his clothes back on and helping you do the same. You climb back into the Impala and he pulls it back into the garage. When he shuts it off, he turns to look at you once more, a mischief in his eyes.

“So, the devil’s gone, Sweetheart. What do you wanna do now?”

You grin.

“What we always do. I wanna kick some monster ass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as I struggled with when I should end this story, I came upon the realization that there is so much more I could still do with these characters.
> 
> But I'd love to hear from you guys, too.
> 
> I really think I'd like to put my own twist on the end of Season 10, going into Season 11 - and I'd love to know if you guys think that's a good idea.
> 
> So, as always, thanks for reading and thanks for ANY feedback you have!
> 
> Missed ya.


	54. Chapter 54

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for the Reader and the boys to go on a regular, normal, relaxing hunt after all that drama.
> 
> Then again, is that even a possibility for these guys?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> Hope you're all still safe and healthy.
> 
> As you guys probably know, I've been trying to figure out if I should keep this story going and explore the rest of Season 10 and into 11.
> 
> Well, I'm gonna do it. I always get such great feedback from you guys and it means so much to me, just like this story does. And I've finally got some ideas now. ;-)
> 
> So, as always, thanks for everything, and please enjoy!

The next day, you find yourself waking up early. You roll over and see Dean sleeping peacefully next to you. You can’t help but smile as you look at him. It’s not often that you get to see him content, worry-free. And it’s a beautiful sight.

You drag your eyes down his face and his bare chest and stomach, then back up to his face once more. You bite your lip as about a million R-rated ideas pop into your head, but just smile again as you decide to climb out of bed instead.

Because as badly as you always want Dean, there’s something else on your mind this morning.

It’s time for a hunt.

You need it. You know you all do. As crazy as it is, killing monsters is just natural for you guys. It’s what makes you feel normal. And after facing off against the Devil himself, normal is exactly what you need right now.

You get dressed and head into the kitchen, and you see Sam’s laptop sitting on the kitchen table. You make yourself some coffee, then sit down at the table, open the laptop, and get to work.

Half an hour later, both boys are sleepily shuffling themselves into the kitchen. You grin once more as you look at them, with their messy hair and PJ’s, and can’t deny that it’s damn adorable.

“Oh hey boys,” You hum. “I made coffee.”

You nod to the fresh pot, and they both smile at you as if you’re their savior. They each get themselves a cup before joining you at the table.

“What are you doin’, Gorgeous?” Dean asks, with a little extra gravel in his voice from sleep.

“What do you think I’m doin’?” You ask, with a subtle smile.

The boys exchange looks briefly, before Dean speaks up again.

“You sure you’re ready for a hunt already?” He asks, his eyes flashing briefly to your wrists, which only yesterday were sliced open and draining the life from you.

You look down at them too, and you hear Sam clear his throat and speak as well.

“Yeah, Y/N, I mean… no one could blame you if you’re not at full strength after…” He trails off, not wanting to say the words out loud.

You raise your eyebrows and glare at the both of them, and they both tense up at the look on your face. You soften slightly, understanding where their concern is coming from, even if you don’t like it.

“I just want to feel normal.” You say earnestly. “This is our normal.”

They don’t say anything at first, but you can see they both understand exactly what you’re saying. You look at them both with as playful and convincing a grin as you can manage.

“Come on, boys.” You coo. “You can’t tell me you don’t wanna kill a monster.”

They soften further, and you know you’ve got them. But just to be sure, you lean forward a little, grin a little wider, and whisper, “Please.”

Sam can’t help but smile at that, and Dean’s eyes flash from your face to your pleading lips as he pulls his own bottom lip in between his teeth. You see the desire in his eyes and if you weren’t certain you’d won before, you’re definitely certain now.

“That a yes?” You ask as you sit up straight once more.

Sam looks to Dean, and Dean clears his throat and shakes off his desire before smiling back at you and nodding subtly.

“Alright, alright.” He says. “What do you got for us, Sweetheart?”

You grin as you spin the laptop around to face them.

“Ohio.” You say, confidently. “Half a dozen people have been found over the past few weeks, their brains liquefied and a hole in their skull.”

The boys’ eyes scan briefly over the article you’re showing them.

“Okay so… wraith.” Dean says.

“Yup. Wraith.” You repeat.

“Alright.” Dean states before taking a final gulp of his coffee and standing, “Well, let’s get the son of a bitch.”

The three of you pack your things and get yourselves ready to leave, and less than an hour later you’re on the road to Ohio. About 14 hours after that, you’re pulling up to a motel in Columbus.

After hours of driving, you’re all exhausted and flop into bed without so much as a word. You all get up early the next morning, though, and all get into your FBI get ups to head to the station and confirm the theory you already have about the monster.

When you come out of the bathroom in your pencil skirt, white blouse, and heels, Dean turns to face you and freezes just as he’s buttoning up his own shirt.

He just stares at you, and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Yes?” You ask.

He stares at you a few seconds longer, dragging his eyes from your feet, slowly all the way up your frame to look into your eyes. He exhales sharply and a smile bursts onto his face.

“It has been too damn long since I’ve seen you in that outfit, Sweetheart.” He drawls with a flirtatious grin.

Your cheeks flush but you roll your eyes, because you know he knows how much you hate dressing up like this. Despite that, you take a few steps toward him so that your face is now only inches from his and bring your voice down to a hushed whisper.

“You play your cards right, handsome, and you might just get to see me out of it later.” You smirk as you finish, walking past him and out of the room to join Sam in the Impala.

Dean bites his lip and exhales slowly through his nose as he watches you, and shakes his head before finally following you out.

At the station, you hear everything you had been expecting to regarding the recent kills. All of the victims were found with a hole at the base of their skull, their brains pretty much completely gone, and what little remained inside their skulls was completely liquefied.

It’s clear the officers at the station are dumbfounded by this, and you obviously can’t blame them for that. They let you know they’re running tests on the victims’ blood to find out what could’ve done that to their brains, but you know they won’t actually find anything.

They also tell you that they haven’t been able to find anything relating any of the victims so far. They were all different ages, genders, races, and backgrounds, and seem to have nothing in common.

When you and the boys go to look at the bodies, you are surprised by the condition they’re in. As the M.E. reveals the corpses, you and the boys exchange looks after each one. All the victims look as though they had been severely beaten and even tortured before their deaths. It’s clear you’re all taking note of this before you thank the officers for their time and head back to the Impala.

On the drive back to the motel, you speak up first.

“Okay, so… What the Hell? Never seen a wraith do that before.” You state. “I always thought they liked to mess with the mind, not the body.”

“Yeah, but it’s gotta be a wraith, right?” Dean asks. “Never seen another monster liquefy brains and slurp ‘em up through a straw the way they do. And I swear to God, if there is another monster like that, Imma be pissed.”

You smile at him, unable to hide the way he makes you laugh even when he’s frustrated, and you see the smile in his eyes as he glances at you in the rearview.

“Maybe this one likes to do both.” Sam speaks up, drawing both yours and Dean’s attention away from each other and to him.

“Maybe it likes to screw with the mind and the body. I remember the wraith that almost got me, she told me she liked crazy brains. The way they tasted. But-but that every wraith is different. Y’know, like they all have different tastes.”

“Gross.” You say.

“So what the Hell is this one’s taste?” Dean asks.

“I don’t know, someone who’s in pain?” Sam asks.

You and Dean raise your eyebrows and exchange looks, both of you considering what he’ saying. Sam has a point, but something doesn’t sit right to you, and something in your gut tells you there’s more to it.

When you arrive back at the motel, you immediately grab your computer and start looking further into the lives of the victims, while the boys try to find out where the monster may be hiding out based on where the bodies were found. You’re determined to find out what else these victims have in common, hoping maybe that will lead to how the wraith picked them out – and more importantly, who the wraith is.

After about an hour, you finally have your theory.

“I knew it.” You breathe.

Both boys look up at you from what they’re doing, and you look at them as you go on.

“I knew the victims must have had something in common. Something that made them particularly tasty to our brain-sucking freak.”

“You got somethin’?” Dean asks.

“I got something.” You say. “Three of the victims were veterans. All honorably discharged after getting some sort of injury in an active combat zone. One of our victims was robbed and beaten about a year ago. Another one grew up bouncing around in foster care. And another one… seems to be a hunter. Or was one, anyway.”

When you finish, the boys furrow their brows at you.

“Uh… still a little lost about what they have in common.” Dean states.

“Trauma.” You say, and you see the understanding slowly begin to wash over the boys. “Sam wasn’t wrong when he said the wraith likes people in pain. But I knew it had to be deeper than that. It clearly likes them to be in pain in the moments leading up to their death, that’s why it tortures them. But, I think it likes people who’ve experienced A LOT of pain. Like the kind you can’t ever really recover from. Like people who are… damaged.”

As soon as you finish saying it, it dawns on you that there’s enough damage between the three of you to probably feed this monster forever. And you can tell the boys realize that, too.

“Great.” Sam scoffs. “Know anybody like that?”

You chuckle. “I mean, it’s just a theory, but…”

“No, it makes sense.” Sam says. “It’s gotta be that.”

“Nice work, Gorgeous.” Dean drawls with a wink. 

You smile back, but it fades quickly.

“Still doesn’t tell us who our monster is, though.” You say. “I mean it’s gotta be someone who took the time to find all these things out about the victims.”

“Therapist?” Sam asks.

You think about it for a few seconds, then shake your head.

“Nah…” You grumble, “If they were all seeing the same therapist, the police would’ve found that. Or we would’ve. There’s no record of them going to therapy.”

You all sit in silence for a few seconds before you speak up again.

“Maybe a mutual friend?”

Sam shakes his head. “I asked the sheriff if the vics had any contacts in common, he said no. So I don’t think so.”

“Aw, look at you two brainstorming.” Dean jests. “Listen, this is thrilling, truly, but I am starving and you two are way smarter than me anyway. How about I run out for lunch, and by the time I’m back, I’m sure you two will have this all figured out.”

He stands, and as he does, you and Sam exchange looks.

“Really, Dean?” Sam demands.

“Dude, did you not the sign at that bar on the way into town? ‘Best burgers in Ohio’, man! You know I gotta try that.”

You and Sam laugh.

“Hey, hey, you’re more than welcome to join me.” He says as he looks from Sam to you. “In fact, I’d prefer it.”

He’s saying it to both of you, but the way he’s looking at you means he’s really only saying it to you.

“Yeah, okay, tough guy.” You laugh. “I appreciate the invite, but I think Sam and I are really on a roll here. You go enjoy, but you better bring back a couple of those famous burgers.”

He grins at you as he grabs his keys from the table and heads for the door.

“You got it, Sweetheart!” He points at you and winks, and then he’s out the door.

You and Sam just exchange looks again before laughing him off. It doesn’t bother either of you that Dean wants to cut out on the research and have a drink and a burger instead. Because that means he’s still Dean. And neither of you have forgotten about that Mark on his arm, even if he has.

Dean drives up and parks in front of the bar, his stomach growling and his excitement growing, knowing he’s only moments away from a beer and a burger. He strolls in and heads to the bar, taking a seat on one of the open stools.

The bartender heads over to him right away.

“What can I get you, man?” He asks.

“I’ll take a beer and one of those famous burgers.” Dean answers with a grin.

The bartender nods and chuckles slightly, before pouring Dean a large beer and placing it down in front of him. After a few moments, he brings Dean’s burger out as well and Dean’s eyes light up. When Dean takes a giant bite, he can’t stop himself from groaning in pleasure.

“Damn,” He says around his mouthful of food, “You guys really weren’t kiddin!”

The bartender chuckles again before eyeing Dean a little more closely.

“You new in town?” He asks Dean. “We usually only get regulars in here and I’ve never seen you around.”

“Nah,” Dean says, before taking another bite. “Just passin’ through. For work.”

“Oh yeah?” The bartender asks. “What kinda work?”

Dean thinks for a few seconds before responding.

“It’s uh… it’s actually confidential.”

The bartender just raises his eyebrows. “Oh… huh… neat.” He says, before walking away to tend to another patron.

Dean’s relieved when the guy finally leaves him alone. Not that he can’t appreciate small talk with a bartender - he has that all the time - but right now this burger requires his full attention.

Only a few minutes later, he’s finished the whole thing and is leaning back, full and content. The bartender heads over to him once more.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Yeah, actually,” Dean responds, “A couple of these burgers to go and one more round.”

The bartender nods, refilling Dean’s beer and heading into the back to grab the burgers. Moments later he’s returning with them, and Dean’s gulping down the last couple drops of his beer.

Dean smiles and nods at the bartender as he grabs the to-go bag and throws his cash down onto the counter. The bartender smiles back, then carefully watches Dean as he walks out of the bar.

Dean heads to Baby’s driver’s side door, but before he can reach for the handle he feels the world around him suddenly spinning. He stumbles forward, dropping the to-go bag on the ground and just barely catching himself on the hood of the car. He squeezes his eyes closed before blinking them a few times and shaking his head, trying to regain his balance.

Before he even gets a chance though, he feels a strong grip suddenly grab his shoulder and the back of his head. He turns slightly, just barely catching a glimpse of the bartender, before the bartender slams Dean’s head forward against the car, knocking him unconscious instantly.

The bartender quickly grabs the keys from Dean’s pocket before tossing Dean into the back seat, hopping in, and whipping the Impala out of the parking lot and down the road.

You and Sam spend another hour brainstorming who your wraith could possibly be, but you’re starting to get frustrated without any ideas.

“Who the Hell could it be?” You ask. “I mean who in this god forsaken town has access to all these random people’s life stories, huh? No therapists in common, no doctors in common, no friends in common… I just don’t get it.”

Sam just sighs and shakes his head. “Yeah… I don’t know.” He glances down at his watch and sees the time.

“Hey, where is Dean?” He asks, slightly annoyed. “He can finish a burger in like 10 minutes, tops.”

You chuckle. “Yeah, you know him, though. He’s probably hanging with the locals at the bar. You know how he loves to chat, especially after he’s got a couple drinks in him.”

And all of a sudden, as the words leave your lips, it dawns on you.

“Oh god…” You breathe.

Sam furrows his brows and looks at you. “What?”

“The bar, Sam.” You say quietly, your eyes wide. “Where do the most damaged people spend all their time and talk about their lives?”

With that, Sam’s eyes go wide, too. “Shit. The bar.”

“The wraith is from the god damn bar.” You say, more loudly this time as you jump up from your seat the same time Sam does.

You’re both out the door in seconds, jacking the first car you can find to rush to the bar and find Dean before it’s too late. When you pull up, though, the Impala is nowhere in sight. Sam begins urgently calling his brother, but curses under his breath when it continuously goes straight to voicemail.

It doesn’t matter, though. Because you already know. You already feel it in your gut. And when you see the abandoned to-go bag lying in the empty parking space next to you, it only confirms your fears.

Why can’t any of you ever catch a fucking break?

“He’s gone, Sam.” You breathe, the panic evident in your tone.

Sam swallows hard and clenches his jaw, and you suddenly jump out of the car and race inside, rushing up to the first employee you can find, a young waitress behind the bar.

“Did you just see a guy in here?!” You demand, as Sam shows up right behind you.

She looks annoyed. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specif-"

“Dirty blonde, 6’2”, flannel, boots, absolutely gorgeous.” You cut her off angrily.

Her face resolves into a smile and she raises her eyebrows. “Oh, him? Yeah, I definitely saw him.”

“Where did he go?” You ask hurriedly.

“I don’t know, he left a little while ago.” She says, her annoyance returning.

“Was he with anyone?” You demand. “Did anybody follow him out?”

She raises her eyebrows again. “Are you some kind of psycho ex-girlfriend or something? Because-"

“I swear to God, if you don’t answer my question right now, you’re gonna wish that’s all I was.” You growl as you lean closer to her, causing her to go wide-eyed and gulp.

“Uh-“ Sam steps in, giving the girl his signature look. “Please, he’s my brother. I need to find him. WE need to find him. Did you see him leave with anyone?”

The girl is still looking at you, the unease all over her face, until she finally turns her gaze to Sam.

“Uh, no… no he didn’t leave with anyone.”

You and Sam both exhale in defeat, but then her eyes light up.

“Oh, but Billy – he’s the bartender - left a few minutes after he did! Cut out right in the middle of his shift. Come to think of it, I did think that was a little strange.”

“Where does Billy live?” You ask.

“I don’t know.” She says. “He’s only worked here, like, a month.”

“Well, don’t you have his info somewhere from when he was hired?” Sam asks frantically.

She just glares at Sam for a few more seconds before answering.

“This is a dive bar in Ohio. We don’t exactly do background checks before hiring someone.”

You close your eyes and exhale slowly, trying to prevent yourself from taking all of your anger out on this poor girl.

“Can you tell us anything else about him?” Sam asks, trying to remain patient as well.

She just shrugs. “Sorry.”

You just sigh angrily again, before rushing out of the bar and into the fresh air, breathing deeply and biting down your worry. Sam follows you out, and you look at each other for a few seconds before you finally speak up.

“We’ve got nothing.” You say.

“We’ll find something.” He answers.

You both look at each other, and neither of you say what you know you’re both thinking. This monster likes people who’ve got damage, who’ve experienced immense pain. And with Dean, he’s got himself a rare meal in that department.

He likes to torture his victims, damage them just a little more before he eats them. Which means he could already be torturing Dean right now. Your stomach sinks and your head spins and you can tell by Sam’s face that he’s feeling the same way.

“Sammy, we gotta hurry.” You breathe.

He nods, and the two of you rush back into the car and back to the motel, desperate to do everything you can to locate Dean before it’s too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know I love my cliffhangers.
> 
> Thanks SO MUCH for reading. I know this may seem like a filler chapter, but I promise every chapter is important to the main story I've got cookin' in my head.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


	55. Chapter 55

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will the Reader be able to find Dean in time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> I wasn't planning for it to be, but this kinda ended up being a long chapter. So I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> And, apologies in advance for the angst.

When he wakes up, his head is pounding so damn hard he wishes he was still unconscious. He’s groggy, somehow already sore, and confused.

Very confused.

He blinks, slowly trying to open his eyes, and when he does he can feel the blood dripping from his forehead and down into his right eye.

He tries to wipe the blood away, and that’s when he feels the biting feeling of rope against his wrists. He looks down to see his wrists tied to the arms of the chair that he’s just now realized he’s sitting in. Upon further blurry inspection, he realizes his ankles are tied just as tightly around the legs.

His flannel’s been stripped off, and he’s already sweating through his t-shirt. Wherever the Hell he is, it’s god damn hot. He looks around blearily, his brows furrowed as he tries to gain some focus and fight off the literal drum solo echoing in his skull.

When he’s finally able to focus, he realizes he’s in what looks like somebody’s living room, except there’s no furniture and there’s dust everywhere and it looks like no one has lived there for a very long time.

Great.

Guess nobody will be showing up anytime soon.

He grunts as he tugs at his restraints, but they don’t budge. Whoever tied these fuckin’ knots knew what they were doing. Instinctively, he wriggles his hand in the rope trying to reach for one of his knives or lock picks, anything to try to get him out of whatever mess he’s just fallen into.

But he has no luck. He can hardly move, and with the little range he does have he can tell the son of a bitch that put him here must have taken all of his other weapons.

Shit.

He grunts again, a little louder, as he pulls even harder against the rope holding him down. That does nothing but burn his wrists even more. He looks down at the Mark on his arm, wondering if it could give him strength to get out of this. But he only thinks about that for a second before pushing that thought away. He doesn’t want to tap into that. He doesn’t want to go back there. He’s been doing such a good job fighting that since he got you back. He doesn’t wanna screw it up now.

Suddenly, he hears the floor creak behind him and he whips his head as far as he can to the side, trying to see whoever he now knows is behind him.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not hiding.” The bartender chuckles as he walks around to the front of Dean, his voice sounding far more sinister than it did when he was behind the bar.

Dean winces slightly as he glares at the wraith, the pain in his head so strong that it takes all he has to focus.

“Headache?” The monster asks. “Yeah, that could be either from the drugs I put in your beer or from me slamming your face right into your shiny car.”

“If you damaged my Baby, I’ll make you pay for that.” Dean grits.

The monster laughs. “I think you should be a little more worried for yourself than for your car.”

Dean scoffs. “Yeah, well, you don’t know what I’ve been through with that car.”

The wraith just looks at Dean intensely, and Dean does not like the feeling of his creepy eyes boring into him the way they are.

He clears his throat as he glances around the room.

“Nice digs.” Dean says. “You uh, you goin’ for the minimalist look or what?”

“Just moved in.” The monster says. “Don’t plan on staying long.”

“Ah, right.” Dean chuckles. “Just long enough to have a few more brain smoothies and then be on your way, right?”

The wraith stands up a little straighter, looking at Dean with bright eyes and intrigue.

“So, you ARE a hunter. I knew it.”

Yeah, Dean is definitely not diggin’ that look in his eyes. He’s lookin’ at Dean the same way Dean looked at that cheeseburger right before he ate it.

“Yeah?” Dean asks, keeping his tone calm and his demeanor cocky yet casual. “And how’d you know that?”

“Please, you’re all the same.” The monster says, eyeing Dean with judgement. “The rolling into town with the flannel and the boots and surly attitude and the ‘my work is confidential’ line. So predictable.”

“You know, stereotypes can be hurtful.” Dean quips back.

“But it’s not just that,” The wraith goes on, “I can smell it on you. The trauma. The… suffering. All you hunters have it. You’re the most damaged kind of people. It’s just… delicious.”

Dean cringes slightly in discomfort.

“Yeah, well, you’re right. I am a hunter. Name’s Dean Winchester. Pleasure.” He mutters sarcastically.  
The monster’s eyes go wide.

“Dean Winchester? THE Dean Winchester?”

Dean scoffs.

“Yeah, usually I like getting’ that response.” He mumbles. But he definitely doesn’t like it this time when he sees the hunger in the wraith’s eyes only growing.

“I could taste the pain and suffering radiating off of you from the second I saw you, but… wow.” The wraith is practically licking his lips. “I’ve heard the things you’ve done, Dean. The places you’ve been, sacrifices you’ve made… you’ve probably got more trauma in that memory of yours than any other person alive.”

Dean swallows hard as he looks into the monster’s hungry eyes.

“Yeah, well look at me. I guess I’m a delicacy.” He says cockily as he subtly pulls at his restraints again. The wraith just continues to glare at him, so he speaks up once more. “But, uh… what’s with that, huh? I would think happy people brains would probably taste the sweetest.”

“Everyone has their own unique tastes. Mine just happens to be on the more… bitter side.” The monster grins as he takes a step closer to Dean.

Dean shifts uncomfortably as the monster advances toward him. He’s decided he needs to keep him talking while he tries to evaluate his options.

“So, what? You, uh…” He glances around the room, looking for an escape route he may use if he’s even able to get out of this chair, “You like to take people who’ve already been through shit and put ‘em through even more shit before you suck out their brains? I gotta be honest, that’s uh… that’s pretty fucked up, man.”

The wraith just takes another step toward Dean.

“Don’t worry. I’ll show you exactly what I do. You see, I don’t just torture them physically. I mean, don’t get me wrong, that’s fun. But the real fun is what I can do to their minds. All it takes is one touch, and I can make them relive all of their worst trauma. Everything that made them so deliciously messed up – I can make them feel it again. Live it again, as if it’s really happening. It’s a real talent of mine. Like I said, I’ll show you.”

“Nah, you know what, I think I’m good. I’ll just take your word for it.” Dean sasses.

The wraith reels back and punches Dean in the face, causing Dean’s head to snap to the side. He grunts at the feeling, but shakes it off quickly before glaring up at the monster with a defiant grin.

“Look, buddy, my trauma and I? We’re old pals. Besties, really. So nothin’ you do right now is gonna have any real effect on me. Might as well not even waste your time.”

He hits Dean again, this time in the stomach, and Dean can’t help the gasp that escapes his lips as all of his oxygen floods out with it. He hits him in the stomach again, not even giving Dean the chance to catch his breath, and Dean winces and coughs through continued gasps for air.

“Ah, ha, ha,” Dean laughs around the pain, thinking of you as he does, “that all you got?”

The rage is all over the monster’s face, and it’s evident he’s never faced this kind of defiance before. He hits Dean again, and again, over and over in the gut and across the face and Dean can only grunt and cough between each one until the monster finally stops, taking a step back and admiring his work.

The second you and Sam arrive back at the motel room, you’re whipping out your laptops and doing everything you can to search for Dean.

You’re trying to maintain your composure, to stay focused on the task at hand, like any good hunter would do. Like you, as a fantastic hunter, have always done in the past.

But in the past, the man you love wasn’t missing somewhere all alone with a monster. So you feel your panic rising with each passing minute.

He’s probably hurt.

He’s probably being tortured. Right now, as you sit on your ass in front of this laptop without any leads.

You just had to go on this stupid hunt.

You look across the table, and you see the fear all over Sam’s face as well.

You take a deep breath, steady yourself, and find as confident a voice as you possibly can for Sam.

“Okay, what do we got, Sammy?”

“Well, Dean and I were trying to narrow down a home base before, based on where the bodies were all found.”

“Great.” You say, “You work on that, I’ll work on hacking into any street or security cams in the area that may have caught the Impala on tape.”

Sam nods at you, and you’re both hurriedly searching for any break you can find. But each passing moment of silence only increases your fear and worry, no matter how hard you try to fight it. You’re hacking into camera after camera, not seeing the Impala anywhere, and your heart pounds in your throat as the panic rises further.

You hate this.

You don’t do this.

You don’t do helpless, powerless, weak.

Remember when you never cared about anyone and never had to worry like this?

Now, you care so god damn much it hurts.

You need to save him.

You will save him.

It’s what you do.

Dean groans in pain as another blow lands against his already aching ribs. It’s been hours of this torture now, and every part of him is screaming in pain. The wound on his head still aches, but it’s being drowned out by the many others now littering his face and stomach. His head is still bleeding, along with his nose, his mouth, his cheekbones, and he’s pretty sure his ear.

Of course, that’s not enough to break Dean Winchester.

He’s not gonna let this wiry skull sucker get the satisfaction of defeating him. Plus every second he’s beating on Dean is another second he’s not slurping out his brains, so he’d call that a win.

But, he can see the frustration all over the monster’s face. And he knows it’s only a matter of time until he moves onto other things. He glares up at the monster, the blood dripping down his face and the bruises more apparent with each passing second. His chest heaves and his wrists burn but he never once loses his defiant gaze and cocky demeanor. He spits a mouthful of blood at the monster’s feet before glaring up at him.

“Are we having fun yet?” He huffs with a smirk.

“You know what? I think you’re right.” The wraith says. “Let’s step it up a notch. That’ll make it a whole lot more fun.”

Dean’s face drops and his jaw clenches as he watches the wraith step closer to him, and begin reaching his hands out to Dean. Dean leans as far back in his seat as he can, unconsciously shaking his head as the monster’s hands get closer and closer to his face.

He grunts as he tries to push himself away further, but there’s nowhere left for him to go. The wraith grins from ear to ear as he finally grabs Dean’s head between his hands, and looks into Dean’s eyes.

“You wanted fun? You got it, Dean-O.”

Dean feels as if he’s just been struck by a lightning bolt. He can’t help the way his muscles spasm and tense and his hands ball into fists and his teeth clench together. He screws his eyes shut as the electricity courses through his body, and it’s only then that the real pain starts.

Suddenly, he’s seeing his mother burning alive. But he’s not just seeing it. He’s experiencing it. He hears her screams and smells her burning flesh and there’s absolutely nothing he can do to stop it.

Then, he’s watching his father die. For him. He’s remembering every feeling of guilt he felt about that as if it just happened.

Then, he’s watching Sam die. No, not watching. Sam is dying. He’s holding Sam in his arms and feels Sam’s blood on his hands as the last ounces of life flood from his body. He’s screaming for his brother, begging him to stay with him, but it does nothing.

And in an instant, he’s being ripped apart by hellhounds. He can feel his stomach being shredded, taste his own blood as it pools around him.

And then…

He’s in Hell. And now it’s his own burning flesh he smells. He sees Alastair’s face, hears his voice as he taunts and tortures him. He feels Alastair’s blade slicing into him over and over again and it’s so agonizing he can’t even breathe.

He’s groaning, grunting, gritting his teeth and squirming and trying desperately to choke back the scream on the edge of his lips. This isn’t like a regular memory. Or nightmare. This is real. It’s like it’s happening all over again.

And it is excruciating.

You’ve checked every last camera in this town and the surrounding ones, and haven’t found a god damn thing. You huff out an anxious sigh before looking at Sam.

“Come on, Ivy League, you can do this. Tell me you got something. Anything.”

Sam furrows his brows guiltily as he looks at you.

“Nothing concrete. All I’ve found is a few abandoned houses, sheds, and barns within a 40 mile radius of where all the bodies were dumped. But there’s no guarantee the wraith is using any of them. And there are at least a dozen, I mean… by the time we search all of them…” He trails off, the concern evident all over his face.

“Doesn’t matter.” You say before swallowing hard, determination all over your face. “It’s better than nothing. Write them down. We’ll split them up.”

Sam’s worried eyes look at yours with uncertainty.

“Y/N…”

“Sammy, we don’t have time.” You say sternly, standing up and placing a piece of paper firmly in front of him. “Write them down, now.”

Dean is screaming.

He doesn’t want to, he wants to fight it, but he can’t.

He screams. Just like he did in Hell.

The pain is immense, unbearable. Alastair continues to rip him apart, and he’s starting to feel that familiar hopelessness in the pit of his nauseated stomach.

And then, he’s off the rack.

Blade in his hand.

With you, now on the rack in front of him.

And he’s suddenly wishing for all that previous pain to come back. Because his own pain, his own personal suffering, that’s one thing to re-live. It’s horrible and awful, but he can do it. He can handle it.

But re-living all of YOUR pain and suffering? Torturing you all over again?

Well, that’s something entirely different.

That’s something so, so much worse.

Sam finally reluctantly agrees to splitting up the addresses he found, knowing there’s no way he can say no to you anyway. Plus, it’s the only option you have right now. It’s not guaranteed, but it’s possible this monster is holed up in one of these places while he makes his rounds in this town.

Which means it’s at least possible that he’s got Dean in one of these places.

And right now, that’s good enough for you to hit the ground running.

You take the places on the East side of town, and Sam takes the West. You’re rushing around in the car you stole from a few parking lots away from the motel. Every time you pull up to an address, your heart pounds and your stomach tightens as you rush through the door, gun in hand and your silver blade in your boot.

And every time you find the place empty, your panic increases. You’re telling yourself that each empty building is just another one checked off the list, and that only means you’re getting closer to him.

But you know that however close you are won’t matter if you don’t get there in time.

He’s cutting you open. Over and over again. Your blood is splattering onto his face and he doesn’t even falter. It’s making him sick, watching you choke out in pain. And yet he doesn’t fucking stop. He’s miserable. THIS is miserable. It cannot possibly get any worse than this.

And then it does.

Then, he’s reliving the look on your face when he told you that you didn’t mean anything to him. He’s watching as Alastair tortures you in front of him, as he hears all about the things that you’ve been through in your own life.

He wishes he could go back to when he was re-living Alastair torturing him. Because it’s so much better than Alastair torturing you.

Then, he’s back in that basement. Where they found you. He’s seeing you bloodied, bruised, nearly broken in front of him.

He wants so badly to tell himself it’s not real, but whatever this monster is doing to him, it’s warping his mind completely. To him, this is all happening all over again. Right now. And he cannot escape it.

And it only keeps getting worse.

Because now… now he feels the Mark on his arm. But not because it’s giving him strength to fight this. No, he feels it because now he’s reliving all of the things it made him do.

He’s dying all over again. He can feel the angel blade as it plunges into his chest.

And far, far worse than that. He’s coming back to life all over again.

He’s a demon again.

In a flash, he finds himself on top of you, squeezing your throat so tightly that the bruises form almost instantly. He staring down at your red face and your terrified eyes and he feels your hands desperately clawing at his. But he doesn’t release you. He only squeezes harder.

He’s disgusted. It’s ripping his heart out to re-live this. To hurt you, over and over again. He wants to tear his eyes out of his skull to stop himself from seeing this. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t escape it.

And now, he’s standing across from you, knife pressed firmly against your heaving chest. His is screaming, begging for this to stop. He’s fighting with every fiber of his being not to do this. But all he can feel is the knife in his hand and the Mark on his arm.

And then he hears your breathless gasp as he feels his own muscles pushing the blade into you. He’s sick. It’s so real. It’s so god damn real.

You’re dying in his arms. He’s holding you, feeling your blood pooling all around him, screaming for this to stop, for you to be okay. But it doesn’t work. You die right there, in his arms. All over again. And he wants to be dead too.

Suddenly, the wraith steps back, letting go of Dean’s head. He drops his head forward, gasping for air and looking around frantically, his green eyes now bloodshot from tears he didn’t even realize he was crying.

His surroundings finally sink in, and he looks up at the wraith in disbelief and horror.

“Wh…” He pants. “What the fuck?”

The monster just grins.

“You like that?” He taunts. “I’ll tell you what, Dean, I knew you Winchesters had been through some things but… wow.”

Dean furrows his brows. “You…” He huffs, “You saw it all?”

“Oh, of course.” The monster answers. “That’s what makes it all so fun. I gotta say, I am disappointed about seeing you kill that girlfriend of yours, though. Seems like she would’ve made a tasty meal, too.”

Dean snarls slightly and glares up at the monster, but doesn’t say anything, still reeling from whatever the Hell that all just was.

And whatever it was… was unbearable.

“Anyway, ready to go again?” The wraith asks.

Dean’s eyes go wide and his heart pounds.

“Wh… again?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s how this works.” The wraith answers. “We are gonna do that over and over again until you’re begging me to suck those memories right out along with the rest of your brain. Trust me, it won’t take long. Let’s take it from the top, huh?”

The monster steps forward once more, and Dean’s immediately thrashing against the rope holding him down.

“No!” He shouts, squirming in place. “No…” He grunts desperately as he pulls against the rope, the wraith’s hands continuing to get closer to his face “Fuck, no!”

You’re desperation is overwhelming as you get down to the very last house on your list. But when you pull up, all of that desperation comes to a head as you see the Impala parked in the driveway. Without another thought, you leap out of the car, gun in hand. You glance quickly in the window, and when you see Dean sitting in the middle of the room, unconscious and alone, you can’t hold yourself back.

You rush inside the house, glancing around cautiously but never once slowing down as you run up to Dean. When you see him up close, your stomach sinks all over again.

His face is an almost sickly pale, making the bruises and blood all over him stand out even more. He looks terrible, and it makes your heart ache at the same time it absolutely infuriates you.

You drop to your knees in front of him, putting your gun down right next to you, as you gently take his face in your hands.

“Dean, hey.” You breathe, your pained eyes studying him closely. “Please wake up.”

When he doesn’t, you feel your panic bubbling up in your chest. Nothing else matters right now, and you know damn well you’re leaving yourself vulnerable, but you don’t care. You’re not stupid. You know you should’ve cleared out the house before rushing over here to Dean.

But you don’t give a damn. You cannot focus on a single thing but him, no matter how foolish that may be.

“Come on, tough guy.” You beg, holding his face tightly and searching for his green eyes, “Damn it, Dean, please.”

Finally, Dean’s thick lashes begin to flutter and his eyes open slowly. You exhale in relief as you look at him, waiting for him to focus his gaze on you.

When he does, a tired smile forms on his lips.

“Please tell me you’re real.” He croaks, and it hurts you how tired and small his voice sounds.

“Oh, I’m real, handsome.” You say, smiling back. “I am right here. I’m gonna get you outta here.”

And suddenly, as if he remembers what’s really going on, Dean’s smile fades to a look of panic.

“No, no, no, no…” He rasps, “Where is he? You gotta…” He winces as he tries to catch his breath, “If he gets his hands on you, Y/N…”

Just then, you hear a subtle creak in the floor behind you and you grab your gun, spinning around swiftly. Just as you do, the wraith lunges at you and grabs you by the wrist, trying to wrestle the gun from your hands. You fight with him for a few seconds, and he looks at you excitedly as you struggle over the gun.

“It’s you.” He says.

This throws you off, and distracts you enough that he’s able to knock the gun from your hands, sending it flying across the room. Without hesitation, you’re reaching for the blade in your boot but as you do, he rushes away from you and up to Dean. He releases the spike from his wrist and presses it harshly against Dean’s throat. Dean stiffens up, clenching his jaw and swallowing hard as the tip of the wraith’s spike already draws the slightest amount of blood.

You freeze, but continue to hold firmly to the blade in your hand.

“Drop it.” The monster growls.

“Y/N, don’t.” Dean mutters, causing the wraith to press the spike even harder against Dean’s throat, and Dean inhales sharply when he does.

You look on in fear, fear that you only wish you could mask right now.

“I’ve already had plenty of fun with him.” The wraith taunts. “I have no problem killing him right now.”

“You kill him, I kill you.” You seethe.

“Yes,” The monster sighs, “But I’ve seen inside Dean’s mind. I’ve seen what you two have been through, so I know you don’t want to risk Dean here getting any more hurt than he already is.”

“I drop this knife, you might still kill him.” You say, the words terrifying you as they come out.

“I might.” The monster says. “Or… I might be so distracted by you that I let him live awhile longer while you and I have some fun. Dean's already been through a few rounds of my little game. You're more than welcome to take your own turn and relieve him for awhile.”

He grins as he says it, and it creates a pit in your stomach.

“No!” Dean growls, his eyes pleading with yours.

But, he knows better. He knows you’ll do anything you can to protect him, even if it’s only for a little while. At this point, you just hope it will be long enough for Sam to come find you both. And as you look at the spike against Dean’s throat, you know it’s the only option you have.

You drop the blade, and Dean closes his eyes in defeat when you do.

“Very good.” The wraith says with a grin. “Now, take a seat in that chair right there and put your hands behind the back of it. And if you try anything, move at all, I won’t hesitate to come right back over here to Dean and plunge this right into his throat.”

You glare at the monster, but you do as he says, sitting in the chair only a few feet in front of Dean and slowly bringing your hands behind you.

The monster grins even wider as he grabs some rope and is tying your hands behind you so quickly you don’t even have time to react.

You just look at Dean, the concern all over his face and the guilt all over yours. This time, this one is your fault. You shouldn’t have insisted on this stupid hunt. You shouldn’t have let Dean go off alone. You shouldn’t have rushed in here, half-cocked, without backup. You just saw Dean and couldn’t stop yourself.

You’re not used to landing yourself in a situation like this. Being reckless almost always works out in your favor.

Almost.

Dean sees the apology in your eyes and just shakes his head, silently telling you that it isn’t your fault. In seconds, your hands are tightly secured behind your back, followed by your ankles to the legs of the chair.

You’re tugging at the restraints, testing the knots, but as you look at the hopelessness on Dean’s face, you can tell he already knows they’ll be impossible to pull out of.

The wraith stands, grinning from ear to ear as he looks down at you.

“Wow…” He looks at you in awe, and Dean is already struggling against his ropes and grunting defensively. “And I thought Dean took the cake when it came to trauma.” He takes a step closer to you, the hunger oozing from his eyes. “But YOU… the damage radiating off of you is unlike anything I could even imagine.”

You glare up at him smugly.

“Gee, thanks. I’m honored.” You mutter.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous for whatever is about to happen next. The look in Dean’s eyes tells you that you should be afraid of this wraith. And you know it isn’t just because he can hit hard.

As if he’s reading your mind, the wraith suddenly reaches out and punches you in the face. Your head whips to the side and your vision instantly blurs, and you can feel the blood now running down from your cut cheekbone.

Dean growls out in anger, but the monster just hits you again, splitting your lip. Your glare doesn’t falter, and you refuse to give any reaction or show the pain. The wraith smiles, looking between you and Dean.

“Well, I can certainly see why you two are together.” He chuckles before punching you in the gut.

You can’t help but double over, gasping for the breath that the blow just completely knocked out of you. Dean thrashes once more, before he can’t bite his tongue any longer.

“You son of a bitch!” He growls.

The wraith raises his eyebrows, looking down at Dean.

“Oh, you want me to stop hitting her? You’d prefer we just move right on to the next stage already?” He taunts.

You see the look on Dean’s face when the monster says this, and you immediately know that whatever the next stage is must be so much worse than this.

“Don’t.” Dean whispers frantically.

The wraith just takes another step toward you, and the overwhelming panic on Dean’s face is the only thing you can focus on. Despite that, you’re determined to stay strong. For him.

You glare daggers up at the wraith, before smirking slightly and whispering, “Hit me with your best shot, fucker.”

The wraith’s torture did something to Dean. It unlocked something in him that he had been doing such a good job of keeping locked up. Those memories, reliving all those horrible things over and over again, they felt real. In his mind, they were real.

So when he was reliving the things the Mark made him do, those were real in his mind, too. That brought him right back to what it felt like when the Mark was in control. And that did something.

That woke the Mark up.

He felt it as soon as it began.

Slowly, but surely, he felt that familiar burn on his forearm. He’s been trying to fight it, because he knows if he lets it back in completely, he may never be able to stop it. He knows that letting it take over right now just to get him out of this, still won’t be worth all the chaos that will follow if he gives it back its power.

But now, with you sitting in front of him, the monster turning his attention to you, Dean isn’t sure how much longer he’ll be able to fight it. And knowing what’s about to be done to you, he isn’t sure he even wants to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, you know what, I guess I'm not really all that sorry for the angst since I put these guys through it all the time.
> 
> I can't help myself.
> 
> I'm already working on the next chapter so I wouldn't be surprised if I have it done in the next day or so. Promise you won't have to wait too long.


	56. Chapter 56

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How will the Reader and Dean get away from this monster?
> 
> And what will it cost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> Told you I'd have the next one up shortly. What can I say? I'm happy to be back.

“Hit me with your best shot, fucker.”

And he does.

The wraith grabs your face in his hands, holding you firmly in his grip, and the current of electricity that hits you is unexpected and overwhelming.

You tense up, squeeze your eyes closed, and as hard as you try, you can’t fight what follows.

It starts with your childhood. And it doesn’t stop there.

Every horror that you’ve endured, all the suffering and pain and torture, you relive it all as if it’s happening to you right now. It’s not like memories flashing before your eyes, it’s like a real-life, in the flesh, reenactment of all of the things that still haunt you at night.

It’s completely and utterly agonizing.

You can’t fight it, you can’t escape it. It feels real. It IS real. You’re screaming out in pain and disgust and every second of it seems to be more painful than the last.

What you don’t see, is Dean watching every second in absolute dismay. He’s rocking in his chair, growling and cussing at the wraith to get his god damn hands off of you, to stop.

To please, please just stop.

He watches with a pit in his stomach and an aching in his bones as you scream and cry and try to fight something that he knows firsthand, can’t be fought.

“Y/N!” He calls out to you, desperately trying to bring you back to him and pull you out of it. 

“Sweetheart! Hey, it’s not real! It’s not real!”

The wraith just turns to him slightly, not letting go of you.

“Oh, Dean, you and I both know it’s very real.” He murmurs with a sickening grin.

“Let her go, you son of a bitch!” Dean growls. “Let’s go, you piece of shit, I’m ready for another turn. Come on!”

The wraith just laughs.

“Oh, I don’t think so, Dean. Making you watch her suffer like this, that’s the best torture I could put you through.” He looks from Dean back to your pained face. “It’s like a two for one special.”

You’re in Hell. On the rack. Being tortured over and over again by Alastair, and his demons, and…

Dean.

You feel the flesh being stripped from your body and it feels somehow as if you’re reliving all 300 years of torture all at once.

Then, you’re back in the basement with Alastair. And that is so much worse.

You’re continuing to cry, to scream, to fight with everything you have to make it stop and yet it won’t.

That is followed by the night you found out Dean was dead. And the weeks after when you found out he was a demon.

And ultimately, when you stood inches from him as he plunged a knife into your heart.

It’s as if it’s all happening to you all at once and over and over and you’re drowning in a sea of your own suffering. You feel your lungs burning from your own gasping and screaming and you find that it’s impossible to catch your breath and just when you feel like this may actually be killing you-

The wraith releases you and takes a satisfied step backwards.

You’re gasping for air, tugging desperately at your restraints, and feeling the tears burning your eyes as they bounce around the room in a panic, when a familiar voice begins to finally soothe you and bring you back to reality.

“Hey, Sweetheart, hey, look at me. Right here. I’m right here.”

You look in front of you and see Dean, and your current situation floods back to you all at once.  
Your chest is heaving as you look at him, and you see the heartache in his eyes as he sees the panic in yours.

“My, my…” The wraith croons, “That is just another level of suffering.” He sounds as if he’s just watched the greatest movie of all time, his voice full of wonder and amusement. “I have never seen anything like it.”

Your chest is still heaving, you’re still trying to recover from whatever the fuck you just experienced, but you can’t stop the fiery glare your eyes shoot up at him.

“Oh, I’d be happy to show you another level of suffering the second I get my hands on you.” You seethe.

He raises his eyebrows, looking at Dean then back to you.

“Well, aren’t you a feisty one. Explains how you made it through all of that.” He says condescendingly.

“I’ll tell you somethin’,” Dean drawls, “Next time you watch this loop in my head, all you’re gonna see is yourself. Because, honestly, listenin’ to you talk has gotta be the greatest torture I’ve ever been through.”

You shoot Dean a knowing look, and his eyes flash to yours for only a millisecond before he looks smugly up at the wraith.

You know exactly what he’s doing, and you hate it. He’s trying to piss the wraith off just enough that he’ll turn his attention back to Dean, instead of making you go through all of that again.

And it seems like it worked when the wraith angrily turns around and takes a purposeful step toward Dean.

But, come on, you can’t let him have all the fun.

“Yeah, you know, for me, it’s not so much listening to you talk that’s torturous. It’s looking at your ugly face.” You quip.

Dean’s eyes go wide as they snap to look at you, and you give him a subtle smirk before turning your cocky gaze to the wraith.

The wraith immediately turns back to look at you, an angry and sinister laugh escaping his lips as he steps back in your direction.

“Dammit, Y/N.” Dean breathes, eyeing you sorrowfully.

The monster backhands you across the face, and Dean lurches in his seat, tugging as hard as he can against the ropes and feeling the burn in his wrists. Then, he feels the burning again, but this time in his arm. He looks down at the Mark, and although the sight of it disgusts him, it’s also filling him with warmth. The same way it always used to. He squeezes his eyes closed, trying to push the feeling down, trying to fight it for as long as he can, but when he opens his eyes back up and sees the monster hit you again, he knows he doesn’t stand a chance.

In between the blows from the wraith, you’re looking at Dean. At first, it’s because you’re trying to soothe him, to show him that you’re okay. But then, your eyes zero in on the Mark on his forearm.  
The Mark that is now subtly glowing.

When you see it, despite everything else going on, that is what creates an immediate lump in your throat.

“No.” You mutter.

“No?” The wraith mocks, thinking you’re talking to him. “You want this to stop now? Well, it’s too late for that. You asked for this.”

With that, he once again begins reaching his hands out toward your face.

But you don’t even care about that. Not now.

Dean thrashes and growls once more as the monster reaches for you, but when his eyes land on you, it’s then that he sees you looking at his arm.

You look from his arm to his face, and your eyes are instantly pleading with his. Not about the pain, or the torture. They’re pleading with him, begging him, not to let that Mark do what you know it’s capable of doing. And you know that seeing you like this, might be all it takes for him to let it back in once and for all.

“Dean, no.” You whisper.

And just as you get the words out, the wraith is gripping your face and you’re being dragged once more into a world of endless pain.

As soon as the wraith puts his hands on you, you’re crying out again in pain. The sound rips through Dean’s chest, terrifying and enraging him at the same time. The monster is smiling, and the way he’s looking down at you as he tortures you makes Dean want to tear his head off right here, right now.

Dean grunts and growls, tugging harder than he has thus far at the ropes on his wrists, not even caring about the blood now being to shed from the raw skin there. He looks down at the glowing Mark on his forearm, and stares at it for a few seconds before looking back up at your agonized face.

The growls coming from his chest are deeper now, as the rage begins to bubble to a nearly uncontrollable level.

“Let her go.” He snarls.

The wraith turns to him slightly.

“Not a chance. She and I, we’re gonna have a lot of fun. And then, she’s going to make for the most decadent meal I have ever had.” He finishes with a grin, licking his lips as he looks back to you, never once letting go of you.

Dean looks once more at your face, your eyes screwed shut in pain, the tears you can’t control running down your cheeks, your body tense and struggling – and he snaps.

He looks down at the Mark now growing brightly on his forearm, and he feels the heat from it radiating up his arm and straight to his heaving chest. He grits his teeth, clenches his fists, and yanks once more against his ropes.

The arms and the legs of the chair break instantly, and he jumps to his feet as he yanks the remaining ropes off of his wrists and ankles with a guttural growl.

The wraith whips around in shock, finally releasing his grip on you as he does. Dean takes a deliberate step forward, the rage oozing from his eyes, and the look on his face alone is enough for the wraith to stumble backward in sudden fear.

He tries to back away further, but before he has a chance, Dean is lunging at him, grabbing him firmly by the throat and slamming him back against the wall.

“I said,” Dean seethes, “Let. Her. Go.”

He pulls the wraith forward only to slam him back once more, cracking the wall as he does. The wraith is wide-eyed and frantic, his strength no match for Dean in this current state.

When the wraith lets you go, it takes you a few moments to catch your breath and come back to your surroundings. You’re panting, your tears still staining your cheeks and your body heaving as you blink away the pain still radiating through your body.

Finally, when you do come to, the first thing you can consciously hear is the sound of Dean’s grunts and shouts from the ground next to you. You furrow your brows as you force your eyes to focus, and when they do, you see Dean on top of the wraith, bringing his fist down over and over with alarming force.

The monster is feebly trying to defend himself from the blows, but each time Dean swings, it sends more blood splattering up to his face. You watch as he eyes your blade on the ground a few feet from him, and he lunges over to grab it, never once losing his control over the wraith. The wraith’s eyes go even wider in fear when Dean picks up the blade, and he tries even harder to fight against Dean’s weight.

In any other situation, you’d be thrilled at the way Dean is tearing this monster apart. This monster, who deserves to suffer even more than most. But, right now you can’t enjoy that. Because you know what’s fueling Dean’s strength right now.

And what it can do to him.

Without hesitation, Dean raises the blade and brings it down in one swift motion directly into the wraith’s chest. The wraith cries out in pain briefly, before the life fades from him completely.

There is only a split second of peaceful calm, a split second that gives you hope that maybe Dean is okay.

But that second passes quickly.

With another growl, Dean raises the knife once more and slams it back down into the wraith’s lifeless body. He does this again, and again, over and over, never once pausing or even looking at you. The blood is splattering all over him and his lips are curled into a terrifying snarl and it’s as if you’re not even there. As if nothing exists to him right now except the violence and the rage.

And when you see the Mark glowing on his arm, your heart sinks into your stomach.

“Dean!” You yell, unable to do anything more still tied to the chair only feet away from him. “Dean, he’s dead! Stop!”

But he doesn’t acknowledge you. He doesn’t even hear you. And as you look around the room in a panic, completely unsure of what to do, Sam finally bursts through the front door, gun raised.

“Sam!” You shout, your eyes wide and your face desperate.

Sam looks at you, immediate concern on his face. Your eyes flash to look at Dean, and Sam’s eyes follow. He furrows his brows, confused for only a second, until the reality of the scene in front of him begins to take hold. His eyes grow even wider as he looks back at you for a brief second, and the two of you exchange knowing looks.

Then he rushes forward, shouting Dean’s name as he does.

“Dean! HEY!”

Dean still doesn’t stop, the wraith nothing more than a bloody mess below him.

Sam lunges forward just as Dean is raising the blade once more, grabbing Dean’s wrist and wrestling the knife from his slippery palm. That action is enough to pull Dean from his fit, and he looks up at Sam, his face confused.

He furrows his brows as he stares down at the remnants of the monster beneath him, his hands shaking and his chest heaving.

Sam immediately turns his attention to you, taking your face in his hands, his worried eyes scanning you up and down to assess your current state.

“Hey, hey. You okay?” He asks breathlessly. The look in his eyes as he looks at you tells you that the pain of what you just went through must be written all over your face.

You just nod subtly.

“Yeah, yeah Sammy. I’m fine.” You breathe.

He swallows hard, clearly not completely convinced, but uses the knife to cut the rope from your ankles before walking around the back of your chair to cut the rope from your wrists as well.

As Sam does that, you look over at Dean just as Dean finally looks up at you. And when he does, you can see the realization flood into his green eyes. He leaps to hit feet and rushes you just as Sam finishes freeing your hands. You stand to meet him and the second he reaches you he takes your face in his hands urgently, his panicked green irises studying you closely and carefully.

He doesn’t say anything, just looks into your eyes deeply as he wipes the drying tears from your cheeks with his thumbs. You look back at him, the two of you silently acknowledging everything you just went through with each other, both of you checking on each other without saying a thing.

You reach a hand up and place it gently on his battered face, running your thumb along his bruised cheekbone. He closes his eyes and inhales as he leans into your touch, and when he opens his eyes you can see the guilt radiating out of them.

And he sees the guilt in your eyes as well.

He blames himself for letting the Mark back in, but you blame yourself for getting him into a situation where he even had to do that.

And you can both read it all over each other’s faces.

He suddenly wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest tightly and closing his eyes as he rests his face against your hair.

“You two okay?” Sam asks.

Dean opens his eyes and looks at Sam.

“Yeah, we’re okay, Sammy.” Dean croaks. But as he looks at his brother, the two of them share a look that says they both know everything isn’t okay.

None of you say anything, but you know you’re all on the same page. The Mark is awake. There’s no taking that back.

And Dean is in trouble.

The three of you head back to the motel and pack up quickly, all of you just desperate to get home. The drive home is relatively silent, and Dean has you sit in the passenger seat, keeping a hand on your thigh for the whole drive. After what the two of you just went through, you can tell he just needs to keep you right next to him right now.

When you get back to the bunker, you all head to your rooms, exhausted and in dire need of sleep.

You drop your stuff off in your own room and then head next door to Dean’s. You knock gently on the partially open door, and see him unpacking his bag. He looks up from what he’s doing and smiles at you.

“Come on in, Gorgeous.”

He sits down on his bed and you sit next to him, and when you do, you see him studying the bruises and cuts on your face woefully. You find yourself doing the same as you look at how battered his own face is.

Suddenly, you exhale sharply, a small smirk forming on your lips.

“Look at us,” You say. “Aren’t we cute with our matching bruises and shared trauma.”

He chuckles slightly.

“Yeah, well, you know what they say, Sweetheart. Couples who get tortured together, stay together.”

You continue smiling as you study his face, noting how beautiful it is, bruises and all. Then, your smile fades and you look at him guiltily.

“I’m sorry.” You murmur.

He furrows his brows.

“What? You’re sorry? Why?” He asks, studying your face.

“I never should’ve made us go on that god damn hunt.” You say, shaking your head. “I shouldn’t have let that asshole grab you and I shouldn’t have let myself get caught, too.”

“Hey, whoa, whoa, I let that asshole grab me, alright?” He says. “And you only got caught because you were tryin’ to rescue my lame ass.”

“No, I should’ve been more careful, I-"

He chuckles.

“You? Be careful? Yeah, I don’t think so, darlin’. Not really your M.O.” He places a hand on your cheek and leans in close to look into your eyes. “And as much as it may drive me absolutely fuckin’ nuts, it’s also what I love about you.”

You can’t help but smile at that, and he goes on.

“My girl is a god damn spitfire,” He says, his bright green eyes sparkling, “And you were only tryin’ to save me. And you know what? You did. Because if you hadn’t gotten there when you did, my brain would be a protein shake right about now.”

“Pretty sure you’re the one who saved me in the end, tough guy.” You say with a smirk.

“Ah, I was just returnin’ the favor, Sweetheart.” He drawls.

You study him once more, admiring the crinkle of his eyes as he smiles, but you can’t stop your eyes from falling to the Mark on his arm, and you see him stiffen up immediately when you do.

He swallows hard, his charming smile fading, as he furrows his brows and looks down as well.

“I should be the one apologizing.” He utters.

“It isn’t your fault, Dean.” You say quietly.

“I let you sit there, in that chair, still shaking and suffering after what that son of a bitch did to you, because I was too busy wailin’ on him to check on you.” He croaks, and you can hear the guilt dripping from every word. “I let this THING take over.”

He glares down angrily at the Mark, and you just place your hand on his forearm, drawing his eyes back up to meet yours.

“You’ve been fighting it for so long, Dean.” You say. “You can’t fight it forever. No one could.”

“I feel it, Y/N.” He looks at you, and the pain in his eyes makes your own heart ache. “I can feel it inside me. It’s so strong. It-" He looks down once more, unable to look into your eyes as he says it, “It’s gonna take over completely. I… I can’t stop it. It’s in so god damn deep, I can’t stop it.”

“Yes, you can.” You say confidently. “I know you can.”

“What if I hurt Sammy?” He asks, his voice nearly breaking. “What if I-" He clenches his fists and furrows his brows before finally looking back up at you, “God, Y/N, what if I hurt you?”

This time, it’s you who grabs his face in your hands, and you look deeply into his troubled eyes when you do.

“You won’t. You won’t hurt me, Dean.” You say, in as soothing a voice as possible.

“But you don’t know that!” He exclaims, the concern in his eyes only growing. “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t done that before! This thing, I can’t control it! It’s gonna take me down, and when it does, who knows what it’s gonna make me do. I can’t be responsible for any more of your suffering, Y/N, I just-"

Suddenly, you throw yourself forward and press your lips against his urgently. He’s surprised at first, but quickly melts into it, his own hands reaching out to grip you as well, one clutching your face and the other grasping your thigh.

You stay this way for a few seconds, pouring all your emotion into this heated connection, calming him and grounding him and reminding him of the power you share.

When you pull your lips away, you press your forehead against his for a few seconds before pulling back to once again look intently into his eyes.

“You listen to me, Winchester.” You whisper. “You are not going to hurt me. You’re not gonna hurt Sam. Because I am not going to let you. You understand me? You once told me that I would always be the one to bring you back. Well, guess what, handsome. That hasn’t changed. I’m right here, and I’m bringing you back. Okay?”

He looks in awe of you, as if that kiss just gave him exactly what he needed in that moment.

After a few seconds, he nods slightly, a small smile forming at the corning of his mouth.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You smile back, and you can feel some of the tension leaving both your bodies. But not at all of it. You know he’s still scared, and you can’t blame him.

You do believe in him, and you believe that you’ll all do whatever it takes to bring him back from this. But it doesn’t mean the task isn’t daunting. And it doesn’t mean you aren’t absolutely terrified of losing him to this thing.

But that doesn’t matter. Because it’s not about you. It’s about him, and he needs you. And you will stay strong for him, even when he feels like he isn’t strong enough himself.

“So then, what do we do now, Sweetheart?” He asks, his green eyes doing their best to look hopeful.  
You look at him earnestly and intensely, your Y/E/C eyes burning into him and oozing determination.

“We find a god damn cure.”

Before it’s too god damn late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading.
> 
> Can't wait to continue this journey with you.


	57. Chapter 57

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reader and the boys are determined to cure the Mark, but as always - something gets in the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> This chapter is relatively short compared to others, but don't worry because I am just setting us up for the next few that I am already working hard on.
> 
> As always, please enjoy!

The next morning, you and Dean head to the kitchen and then into the library, to find Sam already seated at the table, books strewn all around him. He looks as if he’s been up for hours as he scans the pages of the book directly in front of him.

You heart hurts for him, realizing he’s already completely immersed himself in doing everything he can for his brother.

You walk up behind him, wrapping one arm around him from behind and placing your fresh mug of coffee down in front of him with the other.

He places a hand on your arm that’s currently wrapped around him, and looks from the mug of coffee up to you, tilting his head as he does.

“That’s yours.” He says.

“Not anymore.” You respond with a smile. “You need it more than I do, Ivy League.”

He chuckles lightly and pats your arm in gratitude before your release him and take a seat next to him. Dean sits down across from you both, and you can already see the unease all over his face as he looks down at the books all over the table.

“So, any ideas?” You ask.

“Yeah.” Sam says, taking a long sip of the coffee, “Yeah, maybe.” He grabs his laptop and clicks through the many opens tabs before he finally finds what he’s looking for and spins it so that you and Dean can see.

“It’s called the Book of the Damned.” Sam says.

You and Dean scan over the information on the site silently for a few seconds, when Dean finally speaks up.

“Yeah, well, that sounds pleasant.” He mumbles.

“It’s a lore book,” Sam responds, ignoring his brother’s negativity. “It could be another dead end, but… it seems like it might be legit.”

“Where is it?” You ask, your eyes still fixated on the image of the book’s blood red cover on the screen.

“Not sure,” Sam says with a sigh. “It’s been all over the world. Last place, some library in Tuscany… but it doesn’t seem to be there anymore.”

You sigh as well now, sitting back in obvious frustration.

“But I got everyone we know looking into it.” Sam assures. “Jody, Garth, Charlie… if any of them hear or find anything, they’ll let us know.”

“Ah, come on, Sammy.” Dean says shamefully. “I don’t wanna drag them all into it. This is my mess.”

“They care about you, Dean.” Sam assures. “And they wanna help. Plus, they’re not being dragged into anything. I’m just asking them to keep their ears and eyes open in case something pops up. And if it does, we’ll handle it from there.”

Dean doesn’t respond, he just takes a long sip of his coffee.

You don’t know what the Hell this book is, and you know Dean doesn’t like the idea of anyone being put at risk to save him. But you also know that you can see that Mark digging deeper and deeper into him every day.

And you know what they say about desperate times.

So, having every hunter the boys know out there looking for this thing can’t hurt. And you’re all for it. These may be hunters you’ve never met, but the way the boys have always talked about them tells you that you can trust them.

So you do.

And you really hope one of them can find something, before it’s too late.

Suddenly, Castiel appears at the end of the table, a distraught look on his face. He catches all three of you off guard, but then Dean sees the look in his eyes.

“What is it, Cass?” He asks hesitantly.

“It’s Cain.” He huffs, looking intently into Dean’s eyes.

When he says it, you can see every muscle in Dean’s body tense up.

“Wait, THE Cain?!” You question. “The same one that put that thing on your arm?”

Dean clenches his jaw, and Cass nods.

“He’s killing people.” Cass goes on. “A lot of people.”

“How many?” Sam asks, the concern now all over his face as well.

“So far, dozens. But… he’s only getting started.”

“How do you know this, Cass?” Sam questions again.

“I… saw him. His killing ground. Dozens of unmarked graves. It… was a massacre. He didn’t hurt me. He didn’t even try. It was as if he wanted me to know all of his plans.” Cass murmurs.

“Why is he killing these people?” You ask, confused.

“He… has a list. He’s killing every person who is descended from him. He believes them all to be inherently evil, like him. He thinks if he destroys them all, he’ll be making the world a better place. Or at least that’s what he said to me.”

“That’s not it.” Dean finally speaks up, his voice gravelly and solemn. “That might be what he’s usin’ to justify it, but that’s not why he’s killin’ people.”

You all look at him, waiting for him to go on.

“He fought the Mark for so long.” Dean rasps. “But I made him wake it back up when he gave it to me. He can’t fight it anymore. That’s why he’s killin’ people. Because he needs to. Because the Mark is forcing him to.”

You’re all silent for a few long seconds before Sam finally speaks up again.

“Wait, Cain was one of the first people to exist, like, ever. If he’s killing all of his descendants… I mean, how many people is that?”

“Billions.” Castiel utters. “Much of the Earth’s population.

“Wonderful.” You grumble. “Anyone we know on this list of his?”

Cass is silent and solemn as his eyes just scan along all three of you.

“Great.” Sam exhales sharply. “Of course we would all be on it.”

“He seems to be going after the ones he deems the worst first. The… killers.” Cass says.

“Well, awesome, then every hunter on his list is screwed.” Dean states.

“No, not hunters.” Cass explains. “He doesn’t seem to be as concerned with those who kill monsters. I mean, he plans to kill everyone on his list, eventually. But he seems to be prioritizing the ones he considers true murderers. Those with the higher… human body count.”

“Okay, then who’s next on his list?” Sam asks.

“He… uh, he told me.” Cass says, the concern lacing his tone. “Like I said, he seemed to want me to know his plan.”

“Alright, great, Cass, then who is it?” Dean questions impatiently.

Cass doesn’t say anything, but then his eyes slowly fall on you. And the guilt in his features tells you everything you need to know.

You scoff.

“Of course.” You grumble sarcastically. “Yeah, naturally, it would be me.”

It’s always fucking you.

“Wait, what the Hell?” Dean asks angrily, the worry now evident all over his face. “She’s a hunter. She kills monsters, like us. You just said yourself that doesn’t count. She’s not a murderer, she doesn’t kill people.”

“Maybe not recently…” Cass’ words are dripping with remorse, “But she has.”

There’s an immediate lump in your throat.

It’s true. He’s not wrong. You wouldn’t consider yourself a murderer, but you do have a human body count.

Five.

Five men who you ripped apart after everything they did to you. You were only seventeen. But you did it just the same.

All of the boys look at you for a few seconds, their faces awash in that familiar look of pity that you hate so much as they, too, remember who you killed and exactly why you killed them.

Then, Dean’s anger and concern bubble over once again.

“No, fuck that!” He shouts. “Those bastards deserved it. Hell, they deserved worse!”

Cass just looks at Dean.

“I… don’t think Cain sees it that way. There are no gray areas for him.” He says sadly.

You all sit there in silence for a moment, letting reality sink in for all of you.

“Can he find us here?” Sam asks.

“He’s very strong.” Cass answers. “The Mark waking back up inside of him has made him extremely powerful. I would not be surprised if he is able to locate us, despite the bunker’s warding.”

“Based on what he was saying,” You mutter, “How long do you think we have until he comes for me?”

Cass takes a deep breath, looking at you.

“With the rate he seems to be going? One day, likely less than 24 hours.”

You scoff again. “Awesome.”

“Alright, so,” Dean begins, turning to look at you. “We get you someplace else. Someplace safe. Far away.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Like Hell. I’m not going anywhere.”

Sam cuts in, “But, Y/N-"

“Not happening.” You state confidently. “I am not running. Plus, this is the safest place. You think if he can find me here he won’t be able to find me literally anywhere else?”

None of the boys respond to that, and you go on.

“He’s got a Hell of a lot of people on that list of his. I’d rather him come for me, and we figure out a way to deal with him, than hide from him and let him go after someone else.”

Once again, the boys have no argument. And then, you see a look of determined resolve wash over Dean’s face, as if a sudden and solemn realization has hit him all at once.

“You’re right.” He says suddenly, and that surprises you.

“He should come here.” He states, looking down at the mug in his hand.

You exchange looks with Sam and Cass, and Sam speaks up cautiously.

“And when he does come?”

You look at Dean intently, waiting for his answer.

“I’ll do what I have to do.” He rasps, before bringing his determined green gaze up to meet yours.

“I’ll kill him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!!!
> 
> I'm excited to write this, but also nervous. I love the MOC storyline in Season 10 and hope I can do it (and the characters in it) justice.
> 
> Can't wait to share this with you!


	58. Chapter 58

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Dean be able to face off against Cain without losing himself completely?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> I had fun writing this chapter, so I hope you have fun reading it! I'm so excited for what's to come.

“I’ll kill him.”

As the words leave Dean’s lips, they also hit you like a ton of bricks.

“No.” You say immediately. “Hell no.”

“There’s only one weapon that can kill him, Y/N.” Dean says, looking at you almost apologetically. “And only one person who can wield that weapon.”

Your panic only grows as you realize that technically, that is true. Despite that, when you look at Sam and Cass and see on their faces that they’re already agreeing with him, it pisses you off.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You state, looking around at all three. “We woke up this morning ready and determined to figure out how to get rid of that thing,” You gesture to the Mark, “and now we’re just gonna put the blade back in Dean’s hand so he can use it against Cain himself?!”

They all just stare at you, understanding your frustration but having absolutely no solution for it.

“There’s no other way.” Dean says regretfully, standing up as he does. “I’m doing it.”

With that, he walks out of the room.

You look at Sam and Cass once more, the concern all over your face, and all they can do is share your expression.

You shake your head before jumping out of your seat and following Dean down the hall and into his room.

He’s standing in the middle, facing away from you, and although you can’t see his face, you can feel the tension radiating off of him.

“You can’t do this.” You breathe.

He turns around, his face still apologetic, but determined.

“I have to.” He says.

“Why?” You ask, although it sounds more like pleading, as you take a purposeful step toward him.

“For starters? It’s the only way to keep you safe.” He rasps.

“Like Hell it is.” You say defensively. “What does Cain have that the Devil doesn’t, huh? I kicked Lucifer’s ass, I’ll kick his, too.”

He chuckles slightly at that, his bright green eyes admiring you.

“Alright,” He says, “Then how about the billions of other people he plans to kill?”

You don’t answer that one. Part of you wants to say ‘to Hell with them, I don’t care about those people, I only care about you’ – but you know you can’t, and he takes your silence as an opportunity to go on.

“Or how about the fact that it’s my fault he went dark side again anyway, huh?” Dean asks, his tone laced with guilt. “I kicked this mess up for him when I went knockin’ on his door for the Mark.”

You shake your head, your eyes boring into his as you take another step toward him.

“No, that wasn’t your fault.” You say.

“Yes, it was.” He insists. “He told me I would have to do this one day. That I would have to be the one to kill him when he went nuclear.”

You see the pain in his eyes, the remorse. You know how guilty he feels, how he blames himself for this. Which also means he feels completely responsible for fixing it.

“And what about what it might do to you?” You ask quietly.

He furrows his brows as he looks at you, his eyes pained. He doesn’t have an answer for that. He knows it, and so do you.

“I don’t have another choice. There is no other way, Sweetheart.” He reasons as he now takes a step toward you. “I’m the only one who can do this. And we both know it has to be done.”

You shake your head in anger and frustration – and mostly – in defeat. You don’t have any other argument. And no argument you have will make any difference, anyway.

He sees the helplessness all over your face, and you know it hurts him.

“C’mere,” He says with a nod, gesturing for you to close the distance between the two of you.

You hesitate for a second, still frustrated, but you can’t help yourself. You step forward, allowing him to wrap his arms around you and pull you into his chest.

“I’ll be okay.” He whispers, resting his chin on your head.

And you can hear in his words that even he doesn’t fully believe that.

Eventually, you and Dean head back out to the library to sit back down across from Sam and Cass. They look at both of you, and although you don’t say anything, you know they can tell by your face that you’re starting to accept what Dean has to do.

But that doesn’t mean you like it.

“Okay, so… we need a plan.” Sam says.

“We need the Blade.” Dean responds.

When no one answers him, he goes on.

“Which… Crowley has.” He states. “He took it that day he ditched me at the hotel when I was a demon and called you to come get me.”

“I still can’t believe demon you didn’t hunt him down for that the second you noticed it was missing.” You utter.

“Well, I was plannin’ on it,” He drawls, “But then you walked through the door of that bar that night. I mean, you are one Hell of a distraction, Sweetheart.”

You can’t help but smirk at that.

“Bottom line is, we gotta get it from him.” Sam says.

“Hah, yeah, I wonder if there’s anyone here who might be able to persuade Crowley to do whatever they want him to.” Dean teases.

All three of them look at you.

You roll your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” You say. “I’ll handle it.”

“Alright, then how do we control the situation once Cain’s here?” Sam questions. “I mean, we know he’s coming but we don’t know exactly when.”

“Cass, you said he’s extremely powerful now.” You say, looking at him. “Can you sense when he’s close?”

Cass thinks for a second, then nods. “Yes, I should be able to. At least enough to give us a few moments heads up.”

“A few moments,” Dean scoffs, “Great.”

You shoot him a look that silently tells him to take it easy on Cass, and his sarcastic demeanor drops and he looks at the angel.

“Well,” He clears his throat, “better than nothing.” He says, nodding appreciatively at Castiel, who nods back.

“We need to get him to the dungeon.” Sam says. “If we cover the trap on the floor with a carpet or something, we can trap him in there. At least long enough for us to get the upper hand.”

“And then I can take my shot at him.” Dean declares.

“Yes, but… how will we get him in there?” Cass asks. “I don’t think he will just happily walk in there just because we ask him to.”

You sit up a little.

“Uh, yeah, hi. Name’s Y/N. Pretty much a professional at being used for bait.” You quip. “We let him come after me and I’ll lead him in there.”

Dean looks at you, eyebrows raised.

“No,” He states. “That’s too risky.”

This time, you raise your eyebrows, cocking your head to the side as you do.

“You’re gonna talk to me about risky right now? Really?” You demand.

He just glares at you for a second, but then softens, knowing he has no comeback for that.

“Look, he’s already coming for me anyway.” You reason. “I may not be able to kill the asshole, but I can distract him long enough to lure him into the dungeon. You guys are really gonna tell me, after everything, you don’t think I can hold my own against him for at least a few minutes?”

You look around at all of them expectantly, and none of them argue with that.

“Good.” You say. “Then I guess it’s a plan.”

You absolutely hate it, but it’s a plan nonetheless.

A few minutes later, you head into your room to call Crowley. You tell him the plan, and he’s hesitant at first. But when you tell him you need the Blade not only to kill Cain but also to save your life, he agrees. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that you promised him you’d make Dean give the Blade back when he’s done with it.

Even though, knowing your man, that’s a promise you probably won’t be able to keep.

You head back out to the library, looking at the boys as you arrive back to the table.

“Crowley will be here with the Blade shortly.” You announce as you sit.

Sam exhales sharply, looking amazed and impressed.

“That only took you, like, two minutes to convince him.” He utters. “How do you do it?”

“What can I say, Sammy?” You hum with a grin and a shrug. “I’m charming.”

“Damn right.” Dean chimes in, his eyes admiring you as he does. Then, he stands, heading toward the kitchen.

Once Dean’s out of the room, you turn to face Sam and Cass, the concern once again all over your face.

“Are we really gonna let him do this?” You question.

They both look sad as they look back at you.

“I wish I could think of another way.” Cass states quietly.

Sam sighs.

“Trust me, Y/N, I hate it, too. I don’t want him to do it. But, he’s already made up his mind. And I’ve never met anyone more stubborn than him in my life. Well, except maybe you.” He smiles when he says it, and you can’t help but chuckle slightly back.

“And… there’s no other way.” He goes on. “Cain is dangerous. And there are billions of people at risk. And if Dean can be the one to save them - more importantly, if he can be the one to save YOU - he’ll do whatever it takes. We just have to be here for him, and hope that he’s still Dean when this is all over with.”

Sam’s words sink in, and they hurt as they do. Because you know he’s right. Before you have a chance to respond, Dean’s returning from the kitchen with an armful of beer.

“Well, if Cain’s crashin’ the party any time, I say we might as well make it an actual party.” He says with a smile as he places the beer down in front of all of you.

You look at him, and you see the smile. But more importantly, you see everything it’s masking. He’s worried. He’s terrified, just like you all are, of what this fight will do to him. But he’s trying to hide it. He’s trying to cover it up with that damn smile and that damn charm and as hard as it is, you’re trying to let him.

The four of you sit for a while, sipping your beers and collecting yourselves, as you so often do before facing off with a big bad.

Suddenly, Crowley shows up at the end of the table.

“Hello, kittens.”

The boys are immediately annoyed by his presence, but you nod to him in appreciation.

“Thanks for coming, Crowley.” You say.

“Certainly, love. Happy to come save the day once again.” He remarks, eliciting groans of annoyance from the boys, which he ignores.

“You lot can never manage to stay out of trouble, can you?” He asks, glancing around at the boys before his eyes land back on you. “Especially this one.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, now also annoyed by him.

“Do you have it or not?” You ask impatiently.

“Of course, pet. You know I’d never let you down.”

The boys all groan and roll their eyes once more, and then Crowley puts his hand in his coat pocket. When he pulls it out, the Blade – currently wrapped in a cloth – is in his hand. You look to Dean and watch him instantly tense up, his eyes fixating on the Blade. You can see, immediately, that just being in the same room with it is affecting him. He clears his throat and sips his beer, trying to shake it off.

You all spend the next little while trying to relax, to laugh, to pretend things are normal. As normal as things can get for you guys, at least. But deep down, you know you’re all feeling it.

That overwhelming fear that no matter which way this goes, whether Dean kills Cain or not, your Dean might never walk back out of that dungeon.

And there won’t be a god damn thing you can do about it.

Suddenly, Cass sits up straight and alert, and you all know what’s happening before he even says it.

“He’s close.” He mutters.

You all look around, any ounce of relaxation now fading, and you all stand up quickly, heading to your rooms to grab weapons, although you all know there’s only one weapon that’ll work.

Once you’ve secured your own knives and gun in your jeans, you walk over to Dean’s room, eyeing him silently as he loads his guns and organizes his knives.

“It’s not too late to change your mind, you know.” You murmur, smiling slightly.

He looks up from what he’s doing and grins at you.

“Ah, come on, Gorgeous, what would be the fun in that?” He jests.

You smile, but you know he sees the fear all over your face. You take a few steps closer to him, looking at him earnestly.

“If you let him kill you, I’ll kick your ass.” You warn, trying to stay as playful as possible.

He chuckles.

“Oh, I know you will.” He takes a step closer to you.

“Why you gotta be such a hero all the time, huh?” You ask.

He chuckles again, bringing a cocky grin to his lips.

“Well, what can I say, Sweetheart? I’m just tryin’ to be your prince charming.”

“Little rough around the edges for that, don’t you think?” You remark with a smirk.

He laughs. A real, genuine laugh. And it suddenly sounds like the greatest thing you’ve ever heard. You can’t stop yourself from lunging forward, planting a firm and desperate kiss on his smiling lips. He melts into the kiss, gripping your waist as he kisses you back.

Eventually, you pull away, your Y/E/C eyes pleading with his as you look up at him.

“I don’t want prince charming. Prince charming is wuss, anyway. I just want you. I want you… to be okay.”

His green irises bore into you, giving you that stare that you share only with him. Trying to calm you, to reassure you. But there’s an insecurity in the stare this time.

Because it’s a lot harder for him to convince you of something that he doesn’t really believe himself.

“Promise me you’ll come back out to me, okay?” You beg.

You can tell he wants to say it, but he’s so hesitant. So hesitant to make another promise he can’t keep.

Just as he’s about to speak up, you hear Cass yell from down the hall.

“Dean!”

You both exchange glances, before running out to the library together. There you see Cass, Crowley, and Sam all standing defensively.

And then you see Cain.

He’s standing tall, his shoulders straight and his demeanor calm, despite the fact that he already has a large knife in his hand. He looks completely relaxed, as if the idea of being here to kill you actually brings him peace. His eyes scan all of you slowly.

“Well, seems the whole gang is here.” He states, before his eyes land on Dean. “And Dean, good to see you. How are you, son?”

“I ain’t your son.” Dean spits back.

Cain ignores his response, now glancing down at the Mark on Dean’s arm.

“And how is my little gift treating you? Do you feel it, boy? Do you feel it consuming you more and more every day?”

Dean just glares at him, trying not to show any ounce of insecurity or reaction to his words.

Cain once again looks around at all of you.

“I do appreciate you all being here to greet me. But I’m not here for all of you right now. Just one of you.” He says calmly.

At that, you take a confident step forward, and you see all the boys looking on in concern when you do.

“Yeah, hi, that would be me.” You say, smirking at him cockily.

He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Bold.” He says. “I respect that.”

“Nah, not really.” You quip back. “Just impatient. I’ve really had enough of the bad guys monologuing. So, let’s get this show on the road, huh?”

He just eyes you for a few long seconds, and the air in the room is tense, all of you on high alert and unsure of what he’ll do next.

Suddenly, he lunges at you, and the guys all jump in his path to protect you.

“Y/N, run!” Dean shouts as he runs in front of you, pushing you behind him.

The boys are only between you and Cain for a few seconds before he easily tosses them all to the side, watching you run down the hall as he does.

He doesn’t run after you, just follows you casually and confidently with the knife in his hand, leaving the boys dazed on the floor behind him.

“Hm, maybe you’re not so impatient after all?” You hear him call from the hallway behind you. “Perhaps you’re not so ready to die.”

You just keep running, focusing on guiding him into his trap without making it obvious that that’s what you’re doing.

“What I’m doing is a gift to humanity, Y/N.” He calls out once more. “You’re a killer. And you know it.”

You hear that he’s pretty far behind you, so you call back to him, leading him in your direction.

“Yeah, uh… They kinda had it coming!” You respond, loudly enough so that he follows you to the right spot.

“That’s exactly my point.” He bellows, and you can hear that he’s getting closer. “You have no remorse. You’d do it again.”

You’re almost at the dungeon, and you know he’s right behind you, just around the corner. He rounds the corner just as you reach the dungeon door, and you turn to look at him intensely.

“You’re god damn right I would.” You declare.

He rushes you, and you open the door and run into the dungeon when he does. You start towards the Devil’s Trap, but before you reach it, he’s flinging you against the left wall. Your body hits the wall with the kind of force that knocks the air out of you. Before you even fall to the ground he’s in front of you, grabbing you by the throat and lifting you, pinning you against the wall. You’re choking, your hands pulling at his as you try to keep everything in focus despite your lack of oxygen.

Suddenly, the boys are in the doorway just as Cain begins to lift his knife with the hand not gripping your throat, bringing the blade closer and closer to you.

“NO!” Dean bellows, looking at you in a panic.

“Don’t worry,” Cain assures you condescendingly, “I’ll make this quick.”

“Yeah?” You choke out with a smirk, “You wanna bet?”

With that, you suddenly yank your own blade from your jeans and shove it into his gut. He drops you, taking a step back in surprise, looking down at the knife in his stomach as you cough out and force air into your lungs. Then, he pulls it from his stomach and drops it on the ground, glaring at you as he prepares to lunge at you once more.

But before he has a chance, you punch him square in the face. He looks surprised once more, and before he can react, you hit him again, hard enough to finally send him stumbling backwards into the Devil’s Trap. 

Once inside, he notices he’s trapped right away, unable to lunge forward at you anymore. Instead of being angry, he smiles at you, then looks at the boys.

“Impressive.” He says to them, before looking back at you. “What a good little distraction you were.”

“Ah, stop, you’re makin’ me blush.” You say sarcastically as you turn away from him and walk over to the boys.

Dean immediately takes your face in his hands, his worried eyes studying you intently.

“I’m fine.” You say quietly, assuring him with your own eyes as you gently pull his hands from your face.

He silently studies you for a few more seconds to be sure.

“You might wanna hurry up, Dean!” Cain shouts. “This trap can’t hold me for long, and we both know why you’ve all trapped me in here! So, let’s do it, son!”

You turn around and glare at him.

“Hey, pal, the cool kids are talking right now, and you're not invited.” You mock. “We’ll be with you in a minute.” You turn back around, walk out of the dungeon with the boys, and close the door behind you.

When the door closes, you all look at each other for a moment, before your eyes all land on Dean.

“Okay,” He breathes, “Send me in, coach. I’m ready.”

He smiles subtly at you, trying to mask his nerves.

“We wanna help, Dean.” Sam says.

“You can’t.” Dean answers. “You have to stay out here.”

You all stare at him, surprised and confused.

“You are not doing this alone.” You insist.

“I have to,” He pushes, but he looks sad as he says it. “With all of you in the ring, it’d just be a liability. I’d be too worried about what he could do to you.” He looks at Sam earnestly, and then he looks at you. “Or what I could.”

A lump forms in your throat when he says that, and you just look back at him despondently.

“Plus, you gotta be here to take care of whatever comes back out.” He states.

You heart pounds, the idea of what may come out of there immediately terrifying you. Everyone looks sad as they listen to Dean, knowing that what he’s saying is true.

“I’m serious,” He persists, looking at his brother, then you once more, “I mean, whatever comes out.”

You’re so frustrated, so helpless. Your throat burns and your chest aches and you can’t believe this is happening. You can’t believe that you’re going to let him do this. And the more you talk about this, the more real this becomes, the less sure you are that you can.

But it isn’t up to you.

Dean turns to Crowley, and Crowley slowly pulls the Blade from his pocket, unwrapping it from the cloth and placing it in Dean’s open palm.

You watch with apprehension as the Blade begins to affect Dean immediately. You see his reaction, and your heart seizes in your chest completely. It’s as if it fills him with warmth, and you can see the power of it flooding through him, the look in his eyes nothing short of intense satisfaction.

But then, he snaps himself out of it and looks at you and Sam.

He smiles at Sam, giving him that signature reassuring big brother stare.

“I’m good, little brother.” He says with a smile and a nod.

It’s clear Sam doesn’t completely believe him, but he wants to so badly. So he smiles and nods back nervously.

Then, Dean looks at you. He suddenly grabs you by the back of the head and pulls you in for a deep kiss. It’s desperate, and he squeezes his eyes closed and inhales deeply as he presses his lips to yours.

Then, he lets go, looks deep into your eyes one more time, and walks into the dungeon without another word, closing the door behind him.

It’s agonizing, the waiting.

You hate it. You’re not good at being on the sidelines. You never have been.

And it’s so much worse when the guy you love is the one sidelining you, and fighting all on his own.

You, Cass, and Crowley wait outside the dungeon in terrified anticipation. You hear the fighting. The grunting, and yelling, and crashing – and it makes you sick. At one point, you turn, ready to rush in, and Sam grabs you by the arm and stops you.

You look at him, your eyes pleading, and you find the same desperation on his face, staring back at you. He knows exactly how you feel, and you know it’s killing him just the same. But after a few more minutes, when you can’t take it anymore, you turn once more, deciding that you’re going in there and not a damn soul can stop you. Crowley, Cass, and Sam included.

But just as you’re about to go in, you hear a sudden silence on the other side.

And only seconds later, the door opens.

And Dean walks out.

You hold your breath as you look at him – bruised and bloody – and for a moment you’re not sure that it’s really your Dean who just walked out.

Then, slowly, he lifts the Blade, as Crowley reaches his hand out expectantly. But Dean hands it to Cass instead. Crowley glares at him, frustrated and betrayed, before turning his glare briefly to you. Then, he disappears without another word.

You, Sam, and Cass silently look at Dean, still unsure of what’s going on in his head. After a few seconds, he smiles slightly and collapses forward, into his brothers arms.  
Sam lets out an exasperated chuckle before hugging Dean tightly, clapping him on the back proudly.

“Hey, you did it, Dean.” He murmurs. “You did it.”

He eventually pulls away from Sam and turns to you, and you rush up to him, taking his face firmly in your hands. You look deep into his eyes, studying him closely, and he just smiles at you. After a few seconds, you smile back, feeling proud of him as well.

He kisses you, and you can feel his whole body shaking as he does. When he pulls away, you look at his face once more, your thumb wiping away some of the blood on his cheek.

“You really okay?” You ask quietly.

There’s the slightest bit of hesitation on his face, and then he nods subtly. When he sees how concerned everyone still looks, he nods once more.

“I’m alright.” He croaks. “Hell, I’m great.” He forces another smile.

You look into his eyes once more, and you can see the insecurity there. You don't know what he just went through. You don't know all the things that Cain may have just said to him. But looking at him, you know it can't have been good. But you can't push that. You won't. You just need to be here for him right now, and make him forget all about that. However you can.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?” You ask softly.

He nods, and you look at Sam and Cass. They both nod in understanding, stepping aside to let you escort Dean to his room.

Once in his room, he sits down on the edge of the bed, and you once again see how hard he’s shaking as he stares down at the floor absentmindedly.

You pull him out of his head by handing him a brand new bottle of whiskey, and he smiles up at you in gratitude before opening it and taking a long swig.

You grab a first aid kit from his dresser, and begin cleaning the wounds all over his face and knuckles. Neither of you say a word as you do. He just watches you silently and sips his whiskey. You look back at him occasionally, your expression as soothing as you can make it, cleaning his wounds as gently as you can.

The air is heavy, and the silence deafening. It’s as if there are so many things he wants to say, but he just can’t manage any of them. Even though he isn’t saying anything, it feels like he’s begging you for comfort. When you’re done, you kneel on the ground in front of him, looking attentively into his eyes.

As he stares back at you, you can feel how lost he is, how distraught. And all you want to do is bring him back to you. All you want to do is help him.

“Hey, what do you need?” You whisper, your eyes begging him to communicate with you. “Tell me what I can do.”

He just looks at you, and you get closer to him, your face inches from him.

“Dean, let me help you.” You plead.

There’s silence for another moment, nothing but the sound of both of you breathing heavily, the air growing thicker by the second.

“Please.” You whisper.

It’s the please that does it.

He grabs you, kissing you feverishly as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you up into his lap. Your hands are instantly all over each other, and you begin stripping each other, both of you breathless and panting in between impatient kisses.

You’re still on his lap, straddling him and kissing him hungrily. You’re so in sync, undressing each other so seamlessly, that in seconds you’re both nude. As soon as you’re bare in front of him, his bruised hand grips your breast, and he brings his lips down to your nipple fanatically. He latches on, breathlessly sucking and kneading and you just close your eyes and throw your head back, your hands tangling in his hair as the pleasure shoots through you.

He continues kissing you all over, dragging his soft lips roughly all over the sensitive skin on your breasts and neck. You moan under his touch and grind your body against his, and he growls against your skin and grips you even tighter when you do.

You feel how hard he is beneath you, and just as he pulls away from kissing you to look at your face, you slip him inside of you. You both immediately huff in pleasure as he fills you. He furrows his brows, groaning with need as he falls back onto the bed and grips your thighs tightly.

You begin to ride him, lifting yourself and bringing yourself back down slowly. Your movements are slow, deliberate, and careful. You place your open palms down on his chest to steady yourself as you move on top of him, allowing him to fill you completely before lifting yourself off of him once more.

He grunts and moans, the ecstasy all over his face as he closes his eyes and feels you all around him. You watch him letting himself go, losing himself in you instead of to the Mark.

You continue your long, slow movements on top of him, riding him rhythmically and smoothly. You bring yourself down even further, letting him fill you as deeply as possible, and he inhales sharply, suddenly sitting up and gripping your back and your thigh as tightly as he can. You keep moving on him, both of you gasping and moaning as the sensation of your slow movements washes over the both of you.

He matches your rhythm, looking up at you as he does, his lustful green gaze piercing through you and somehow arousing you even more. You stare back down at him, gripping his biceps tightly as you continue to move, and feeling him clutching you just as tightly. Your gazes are locked on each other, your faces inches apart, your movements fluid and strong, and for these few moments, you’re both letting the connection of your bodies completely drown out everything else.

You feel yourselves climbing toward your peaks, the arousal overwhelming you both, and he suddenly grips you even tighter, burying his face into your neck and moaning into your skin as the pleasure overtakes him and he cums hard. You squeeze your eyes closed and whine out as well, gripping him harshly as the pressure inside of you snaps as well and the ecstasy floods your body and fills you with warmth.

You continue moving on top of him for a few seconds, allowing the waves of pleasure to fade gradually with your movements. He’s still gripping you tightly, still buried in your neck, huffing out exasperated and exhausted breaths against your skin.

Eventually, you climb off of him, the two of you collapsing onto the bed on your backs, both drained and contented. You’re both still breathing heavily, saying nothing for a few long moments.

Finally, he speaks up breathlessly.

“Thank you.” He pants.

You just turn your head to look at him, and he looks back.

“If it wasn’t for you, Sweetheart,” He rasps, “I’d be long gone already.”

Your heart aches, and you roll onto your side to get closer to him.

“Dean…” You breathe, looking at him intently.

“I’m okay.” He whispers.

You just keep studying him, and realize he isn’t really saying it to you at all. He’s saying it to himself. Trying desperately to convince himself that it’s true.

What the two of you just shared, that connection of your bodies, it was exactly what he needed in that moment. To bring him back to you for now.

But that’s all it was.

Just for now.

“I’m okay.” He repeats quietly, pulling you into his chest as he does.

But he isn’t.

You can feel it in the way he holds you, the way he looks at you – Hell, you know him so well, you can feel it in the way he breathes.

He’s not okay.

No matter how hard he pretends to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to reiterate how much I appreciate all of you and all of your feedback. Seriously, I know I say it all the time but I am totally surprised and honored that you're still with me, and still into this, after all these chapters. Means the world to me.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, and I'll see you soon.


	59. Chapter 59

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How will the Reader and the boys work on curing the Mark of Cain?
> 
> And who might show up to help them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> I am super excited about this chapter. It's not long, but it's something I personally have been waiting for for awhile. So maybe you have, too.
> 
> Enjoy!

A few weeks go by, and you spend them watching Dean fighting to be okay when he isn’t.

You know you’re all seeing it. Cass, Sam, and you. Cass decides to head out once more. He says he’s heading back to Heaven, but you know he’s going out in search of a cure to the Mark of Cain.

You and Sam just watch Dean, both of you seeing right through him. It’s in the little things he does. Rubbing his arm absentmindedly, sleeping less, eating less, and drinking more – which for Dean, means a lot.

He’s not THERE with you, not really. He still smiles at you, flirts with you, kisses you, holds you.

But he’s not there.

You can’t feel him the same way you usually do, not completely. And each passing day feels like he’s sinking further and further into himself, and into the Mark.

And you don’t know what to do about it.

You, Sam, and Dean are having breakfast in the kitchen when Sam’s phone suddenly rings. He answers it quickly, and you see concern almost immediately flash across his face when he does.

“Charlie?! What’s going on?” He asks.

Dean immediately stiffens up and looks on anxiously when he hears Sam say Charlie’s name.

"What is it?" Dean asks.

“You did?!” Sam asks once more.

“Dammit, Sam, what is it?” Dean demands, worried.

Sam’s wide eyes look at Dean.

“She found the Book of the Damned.” He whispers.

Your heart jumps at that, actually feeling excited. Damn, maybe this Charlie really is as good as they say she is. But when you watch Sam listen to whatever she is saying on the other line, you know you shouldn’t get excited just yet.

“Wait, isn’t that a good thing?” You ask, “What’s wrong?”

Sam just looks at you and Dean as he listens for a few more seconds before speaking to Charlie once more.

“Okay, okay. Slow down. Charlie, hang on.” He turns his attention to you and Dean, “She found the book, but now she’s got people after her. Apparently, pretty bad people.”

“Is she okay?” Dean demands.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s okay... but we gotta get her somewhere safe. She’s on her own right now, in Des Moines.”

“Des Moines.” Dean whispers, thinking for a second, before an idea comes to him. “Cabin.” He utters quietly, almost to himself.

Then, he speaks up louder.

“Sam, Bobby’s cabin! Tell her to go there. We’ll meet her.”

Sam nods at Dean as he speaks to Charlie.

“Okay, yeah, Charlie, our friend Bobby has cabins scattered all over. I’ll text you the address to the one closest to you. You think you can get there and lay low?”

There are a few seconds of silence as he listens, nodding his head and relaxing slightly.

“Good.” He breathes. “Good. We will be there as soon as possible, okay? Okay. See you soon.”

With that, he hangs up, still looking at you in Dean in surprise.

“She said she can get there. She’s hurt, but she’s okay. Some guys have been after her since she found the book. She said for us to hurry, and to bring every Men of Letters’ decoder we have.” He states.

“Yeah, great.” Dean grumbles. “Already lookin’ like this damn book wasn’t such a good idea, Sam.”

You stand, your eyes silently scolding Dean for his negativity.

“Doesn’t matter right now.” You say. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

With that, you rush out of the kitchen to grab your things and the boys follow behind.

In no time, you and the boys are rushing in the direction of the cabin. As you stare out the window and the trees quickly pass you by, you’re going through all the ways this could play out. You want to believe this book is a good thing. Yeah, maybe there are some bad dudes after it, but you can handle bad dudes. Especially if it means you could save Dean.

But Charlie’s already hurt. And you don’t know her yet, but something in your gut makes you already care about that. Dean’s right, it does feel more and more like this book could be bad news. But you’re holding out hope it could be the answer anyway.

Because what choice do you have?

Eventually, you’re pulling up to the secluded cabin and see Charlie’s car already parked outside. You and the boys head in quickly, and there you see the small redhead seated on an old couch. She stands as soon as she sees the boys walking in, and you see her wincing as she does. But whatever pain she’s feeling isn’t enough to stop the beaming grin that stretches across her face at the sight of the boys.

“What’s up, bitches?” She announces happily before wrapping her arms around Sam.

As soon as she lets go of him, Dean rushes her, hugging her so tightly that she winces. You see the emotion in him as he wraps his arms around her, and it makes your heart swell to see how much the two of them love her.

Dean pulls away from her, still holding her by the shoulders, now looking down at her and studying her intently.

“You okay?” He asks.

She nods, but winces once more as she slightly lifts her t-shirt to reveal a wound on her abdomen. It’s covered with a thin layer of gauze, but it’s already bleeding through and clearly needs to be more properly attended do.

“Jesus, Charlie.” Dean grumbles, furrowing his brows as he does.

“Ah, calm down, ya big lug. I’m alright.” She says lightly, patting him on the shoulder.

Then, she looks past him to you, her eyes lighting up as she does. Dean notices her looking at you, and turns to look at you as well.

“Oh, yeah,” He says, clearing his throat. “Charlie, this is Y/N. Y/N, Charlie.”

She takes a step toward you, smiling at you, and you smile and nod back to her.

“Pleasure, Charlie.” You say, extending your hand.

She looks at your hand for a brief second before slapping it away and rushing you, suddenly wrapping you in a surprisingly tight hug. You stiffen up for a second in surprise, and the boys just chuckle as they watch. You quickly settle into the hug, though, wrapping your arms around her as well.

After a few long seconds she pulls away, now looking you up and down slowly, her eyebrows raised. You just look at her as she does, not entirely sure of what she’s doing.

“You’re, like, hot.” She suddenly blurts, catching you off guard but still drawing a reluctant smile to your lips. Then, she turns to Dean, nodding in approval. “She’s hot.” She says to him.

Both he and Sam chuckle once more, and he drags his bottom lip up in between his teeth as he looks at you with a proud smirk.

“Yeah,” He agrees, “I know.”

Before you have a chance to respond, she turns back to you.

“And, I’ve heard you are one bad ass woman.” She states.

You look at the boys, your eyebrows raised as you realize they’ve clearly talked about you.

“Oh, you have, have you?” You say with a smirk, before looking back at her. “Well, I’ve heard you are one bad ass QUEEN, so I think you still win, Your Highness.”

She grins wider at that before turning around once more, and looking at Dean.

“Yup.” She says with an affirmative nod. “I like her.”

You all chuckle at that, and you smile at her as she makes her way back to the couch.

You like her, too.

She groans as she sits back down, and that’s when you all remember she still has a wound that needs tending.

“All right, let’s see it.” Dean commands. “You’re gonna need stitches.”

“I’ll do them.” You announce, walking forward, surprising even yourself with your sudden need to take care of Charlie.

All three of them look at you, and you stop walking.

“What?” You ask, eyeing the boys. “Let’s not waste time pretending I’m not the best at it.”

The boys can’t help but smile, their expressions and gestures clearly conceding to you. Charlie watches in amusement at the way you interact with them. You place your bag down on the couch next to her, kneeling in front of her as you take the medical supplies out of your bag.

You smile at her, gesturing for her to lift her shirt, and she does. You immediately begin to get to work, trying to be as gentle as possible on the bullet wound in her side.

“You two just gonna stand there, or you gonna make yourselves useful and get the Queen a drink to numb the pain?” You question, not looking away from what you’re working on.

The boys laugh, and Sam grabs a bottle of whiskey from his bag and hands it to Charlie. Charlie smiles at you, before taking the bottle from Sam with an appreciative nod.

When Sam gets a closer glance at the wound on Charlie’s side, his face sinks.

“I’m so sorry, Charlie. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in this.” He utters.

“Are you kidding?” She says, taking a sip and then smiling up at Sam. “I wanted to do this. Plus, now I can add bullet wound to my list of hunting-related injuries.” She states proudly. “I mean, not even Hermione Granger has been shot while smuggling an ancient spell book.”

Dean chuckles, finally tossing his bag down onto the table next to him.

“Well, Hermione ain’t got nothin’ on you, kiddo.” He drawls, eliciting an even wider grin from Charlie.

“Yeah, how DID you find the book?” Sam asks, amazed.

“Long story.” She says. “Let’s just say that after a few broken into museums and train rides around Europe, I finally found it in some monastery that burned down in Spain. Along with notes that explain what it is.” She pausing, looking between Sam and Dean excitedly. “The Book of the Damned is a spell book for creating or undoing any kind of damnation there is.”

This is the first time you pull your eyes away from what you’re doing to look at the boys. Your eyes connect with Dean’s, both of you sharing a look of uneasy hopefulness, and Charlie continues.

“Dean, if we can read this thing… we could use it to get the Mark off your arm.”

“Wait, Charlie, you said if we can read it…” Sam interjects, “What does that mean?”

Charlie sighs, taking a swig of whiskey.

“That’s the thing. The language in the book… it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. That’s why I said to bring the decoders. Right now, I have no idea how to read it.” She finishes, defeated.

“I’m sorry, are you not the fugitive genius hacker I’ve heard so much about?” You ask, a smirk on the corner of your lips.

She looks down at you, eyebrows raised.

“Just sayin’,” You say quietly as you get back to working her stitches, “From what I've heard, I’m pretty sure there isn’t a single person out there who’s better for the job than you.”

She looks at you for a few seconds before a confident smile forms on her face once more.

“So, uh, who’s the douche we gotta kill for puttin' this bullet in your side, anyway?” Dean asks.

“Ah, just some southern fried A-holes who’ve been chasing me ever since I found the book.” She explains. “I don’t know who they are, all I know is that they have some weird tattoo on their wrists. Seemed a little culty. Or maybe like a family crest. But whoever they are, they’re well trained. The one guy kept talking about his family, saying the book belonged to them.”

“Oh, so another entitled man who thinks he’s got a right to something he doesn’t.” You state absentmindedly as you work on finishing up the stitches. “Perfect, not enough of those in the world.”

Charlie grins down at you as she raises the bottle of whiskey.

"Amen to that, sister." She says, winking at you. You wink back, then get back to work once more.

You don't see the way Charlie glances at Dean with yet another impressed nod, once again signaling her approval of you. He just shoots her a cocky smirk in return.

“Alright,” You sigh, snipping the last stitch. “All done.”

Charlie looks down at her side, then looks at you appreciatively.

“So, uh…” Dean rasps, “Where is it?”

Charlie nods to a table on the other end of the cabin, and that’s when you see the large book sitting on top. Dean strides over to it, looking down at it in wonder.

“Weird, right?” Charlie asks. “Did some digging into it, turns out that about 700 years ago, some nun locked herself away after having ‘visions of darkness’.” She pauses, glancing at you. “Whatever that means.”

She looks back at Dean as she goes on, “After a few decades holed up all by herself, she emerged with that thing. Apparently, each page is made of her own skin and it’s written in her blood. Some seriously eekish bizz.”

You all exchange looks of surprise and disgust, and then Dean reaches down to pick the book up. When he does, you can almost immediately see the glaze over his eyes. He’s looking down at it, flipping through the pages, but he’s immediately out of it. No longer mentally in the room with you guys at all.

“Dean?” You say hesitantly, trying to calmly snap him out of it.

When he doesn’t answer, you exchange concerned glances with Sam and Charlie. You stand up and walk over to him, placing a hand on his arm.

“Dean.” You whisper, right next to him.

Your touch snaps him out of it and he closes the book abruptly, handing it to you.

“I don’t think I should touch this.” He says to you, his eyes looking deeply into yours as he does. Whether he wants you to or not, you can see right through him and you see how much even touching the book has shaken him up.

Okay, not a good sign.

You look down at it in your hands for a few long seconds before placing it back down on the table. You look at Dean with a comforting gaze.

“Okay,” You say, “Okay, that’s fine. Who wants to touch old nun skin anyway, right?” You chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

He smiles at you, appreciating your attempt at levity, but you still see the stress on his face. He turns to Sam, clearly trying to change the subject.

“Hey, uh, how about you and I head out and canvass the surrounding area, make sure none of the tatted dicks who came after Charlie are creeping up on us?” He asks.

Sam hesitates for a second, looking at you, but you just nod at him, knowing Dean probably needs some fresh air right now anyway. Sam nods at Dean.

“Yeah, okay. Good idea.” He says.

They both grab a few weapons, and Dean turns to look at you and Charlie, now trying to reassure you that he’s alright. And even though you know he isn’t, you’re going to let him pretend for right now.

“Back in a few, ladies.” He looks from Charlie to you. “Stay beautiful.” He finishes with a wink.

“I could say the same to you, Winchester.” You smirk back.

He grins as he heads out the door behind his brother. Once the door closes behind him, you pick the book back up and turn to Charlie.

“Alright, what do you say we take a stab at the ancient gibberish in this thing, huh?” You ask with a mischievous smile.

“Hell yeah.” Charlie answers, grinning back at you. “Let’s get to crackin' this bitch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, okay, I've been nervous to write Charlie. There are some characters that deserve the best, and she's one of them. So I didn't wanna screw her up. But either way, she's fun to write and I love her.
> 
> Thanks SO MUCH for reading!!!!


	60. Chapter 60

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reader, the boys, and Charlie work on translating and finding out more about the book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 60 CHAPTERS!
> 
> Whew, you guys rock. Thanks for being here with me and I hope you enjoy!

You and Charlie spend the next little while alone together, sitting around the small table in the cabin and trying to make sense of the unknown language in the book. You quickly get frustrated by that, and elect instead to research tattoos that might match the description Charlie gave you of the one on the men following her.

“This is gonna be frackin’ impossible.” Charlie sighs, sitting up straight and finally tearing her eyes from the book.

“Trust me,” You chuckle slightly, “In this life, nothing is impossible.”

Charlie just looks at you for a few seconds, studying you intently. When you feel her eyes on you, you tear your own away from your laptop to look back at her.

“What’s up?” You ask.

“Your life…” She begins, “I mean, Sam and Dean haven’t told me everything about it, but… it’s been really hard, like theirs… right?”

You just look at her for a little, unsure of how to answer. Unsure of how yet another person seems to be breaking down the walls that you’ve had up all your life.

Charlie looks embarrassed when you don’t answer her right away.

“Ah, crap, that was rude, wasn’t it?” She asks, “They did also warn me not to mess with you and yet here I go, just asking questions abou-"

“Whoa, whoa, easy tiger.” You say, smiling slightly. “It’s okay. I just didn’t know how to answer, that’s all. I don’t exactly love talking about myself. Still getting used to the whole ‘opening up’ thing.”

“Yeah, well, when the only people you have to open up to are the Winchesters, I can see why.” She says.

You raise your eyebrows, and she immediately explains.

“Hey, they’re great! Couple of giant teddy bears. But they don’t exactly do the ‘opening up thing’ very well either. Plus, they’re dudes. I love them to death, but you gotta have friends that are girls, too, you know?”

You exhale a sharp chuckle.

“Yeah, well, I don’t really have friends, so…”

“Well, too be fair,” She says, “All of my friends who are girls are usually only my friend for one night, if you know what I’m saying.” She wiggles her eyebrows as she says it, and you can’t help but laugh at her again.

“Doesn’t matter. Because we both have a best friend now.” She says with a grin, elbowing you playfully, “We’ll make it official. Have a whole girls’ night and everything. Gossiping, watching movies, eating ALL the junk food. Have you ever seen Lord of the Rings? Because if you haven’t, we could make a whole weekend out of that.”

You chuckle again, smiling at her.

“I’d like that.” You say genuinely, “Sounds like a damn good time.”

A moment goes by, and you speak up again, deciding that opening up to her may not be as hard as you thought.

“It has been hard.” You say, “My life.”

Charlie looks at you intently. You pause for a second, the idea of reflecting on your past almost enough to completely overwhelm you.

“Dealt with a lot of monsters in a lot of ways.” You go on, “Even the human kind.”

She’s still looking at you attentively, a deep understanding in her eyes. You clear your throat and straighten you posture, smiling at her.

“But that got me here.” You say earnestly. Then, you gaze at the door the boys exited from a little while ago. “That got me to them.”

“You love them.” She says with a grin.

You chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah… they’re alright, I guess.” You joke.

“They love you, too.” She goes on.

You smile, raising your eyebrows at her.

“Yeah, I’d say the same goes for you, Your Highness.”

She grins even wider.

“I totally get it. You fit with them. You are just like them.” She states. “Which, you know, means you’re completely awesome and tough and kickass just like they are.”

You laugh at that.

“I’m glad they have you.” She utters.

You nod at her.

“I’m glad they have you, too.” You answer.

You look at each other for a few more seconds, before she speaks up once more.

“And,” She laughs, her expression nothing short of impressed, “You put them in their place like no one I’ve ever seen.”

You laugh again.

“Yeah, well, someone’s got to.” You jest.

“You can say that again, sister.” She agrees.

You grin at each other once more before you both get back to what you’re working on. You can’t help but feel content as you do, though. Which is weird, considering everything going on. You’re still worried about this Book, and about Dean, and the Mark… but talking with Charlie has made you feel just a bit better for now, and for that you’re grateful.

Huh. Guess you do have a best friend now.

Feels weird. Feels… good.

A few minutes later, the boys head back into the cabin and you look up at the expectantly.

“Anybody out there?” You ask.

“Nah,” Sam shakes his head. “We’re clear, for now at least.”

“What about you two?” Dean asks, “You girls playing nice in here?”

“Oh yeah,” Charlie answers, “Y/N and I are already best friends. We made it official.”

Dean raises his eyebrows.

“We started a club. Girls only.” You say. “You’re not invited.”

Sam laughs, and a mischievous smirk immediately forms on Dean’s lips.

“Oh yeah?” He asks, walking toward you, “You two gonna have pillow fights in your underwear?”

You roll your eyes and laugh, and Charlie speaks up quickly.

“Hey, watch it, buddy. Don’t tempt me.” She warns playfully, “I can and will steal your girl.”

He laughs at that for only a second before his face gets serious, and you watch him actually consider that as an option for a few seconds. The dopey concern on his face is adorable, and you can’t help but laugh as you stand up and meet him, planting a quick kiss on his mouth.

“Don’t worry, tough guy, I’m all yours.” You say, patting him on the arm. “For now, at least.” You turn to Charlie and wink, and then the two of you laugh, both at each other and Dean.

Dean points at Charlie.

“Don’t you dare, okay? Off limits!” Dean warns, only half kidding. Then, he grabs the whiskey bottle off the table, takes a large swig, nodding at the book as he swallows. “How about that, huh? Find anything?”

Charlie just groans and drops her head onto the book, and the boys raise their eyebrows at you.

“Yeah, that would be a ‘no’ from Charlie.” You say, “Looks like the book is not only in some weird, ancient language, but the language itself is also coded. Gonna take a lot of work to crack it.”

Charlie just groans again into the book, but doesn’t look up.

“But!” You say, heading back toward the laptop on the table, “I think I may have gotten somewhere with this tattoo. This family – the Stynes – they’re bad news, to say the least. They date back to the 1800s and they have done nothing but wreak havoc on the world. Plagues, war, stock market crashes, helping the fucking Nazis… they used spells to do all of that. And it seems like… they got their spells from that book. I guess it did belong to their family, but they lost it over 100 years ago. How much you wanna bet they’ve been looking for it ever since?”

Everyone looks on, their concern clearly growing as they listen to you.

“The book is dark magic.” You say. “There are serious consequences whenever it’s used. Serious negative consequences.”

Everyone’s quiet for a few seconds, when Dean finally speaks up.

“Makes sense.” He says.

You furrow your brows and look at him, and he explains.

“Look, that book, it’s bad news, okay? Real bad. I… I can feel it. It’s calling out to me. Begging me to use it. Doesn’t that alone tell you that we shouldn’t?”

“Dean…” Sam begins.

“I wanted it to be the answer, too, alright? Of course I did. But, it just isn’t. We can’t go down that road.” Dean mutters.  
“Let’s at least translate it!” Sam exclaims, and you can see the frustration all over his face. “If there’s a spell in there that could get rid of the Mark-"

“Dammit, Sam, no!” Dean blurts loudly. “Just… no. Trust me on this. We gotta get rid of that thing.”

“So, what, you’re just gonna give up?” Charlie asks, her tone laced with frustration.

“No, of course not.” Dean says, exasperated. “But I’m not lettin’ whatever darkness is inside that thing hurt you. Any of you. We’ll just have to find another way. And in the meantime, I’ll just keep fightin’ the Mark until-"

“Until what, Dean?!” Sam demands, his worry for his brother now blooming into rage. “Until I have to watch my brother become a demon again? Huh? Until you KILL Y/N again?!”

“Sam…” You warn.

Charlie’s eyes go wide at that, and Dean’s fill with rage and guilt.

“Shut the Hell up.” He growls.

“Am I wrong?!” Sam shouts. “You think you’d be able to live with yourself if we lose her again?!”

“Sam!” You warn again, louder this time.

Dean growls again, beginning to rush his brother, but you jump up and you’re between them in seconds.

“That’s enough!” You shout, looking between the two of them as they glare at each other. When neither of them look at you, you speak up again.

“I said it’s enough.” You command. Finally, they both look at you, and they both soften slightly.

You sigh. “We all want the same damn thing here, okay? Let’s all take a breath. Dean, get your keys. You and I are going for a drive.”

He looks at you for a second, but then nods and heads to grab his jacket.

You turn to look at Sam.

“And you… have a seat. Calm the Hell down.” You say.

He stares at you, but you just stare back, refusing to back down.

“Sammy, I get it. Trust me, I get it.” You whisper. “But you need to calm down before we can figure anything out.”

A few seconds later, he finally softens more, nodding at you.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He says, and you smile at him slightly before patting his chest.

You walk to Dean, who’s waiting at the door.

“We’ll be back, alright?” You say. “And if everyone can’t get along, I’m gonna have to start putting people in timeout.”

With that, you and Dean head out the door.

On the drive into the nearest town, Dean is silent, glaring at the road, knuckles white from gripping the wheel so tight.  
“Hey,” You murmur, reaching out to place a hand on his outstretched arm as you do. When you touch him, his muscles immediately relax, and his stressed green eyes flick to look at you briefly.

“I’m right here, tough guy. Right here.”

He exhales slowly through his nose.

“What Sam said…” Dean grits.

“Sam’s worried.” You reason. “And you know why. And you can’t blame him for that.”

Dean doesn’t answer, because deep down he knows you’re right.

“We all wanted so badly for that book to be the answer.” You go on. “And I’d be lying if I said part of me isn’t still hoping it is, dark magic and all.”

He looks at you, his eyebrows raised.

“What if it was Sam, huh? Or me?” You ask. “Same situation, roles reversed. You’re telling me you wouldn’t do whatever it takes, black magic or not, to save us?”

He just stares at the road, his brow furrowed, refusing to answer.

“Dean Winchester.” You insist.

“Yeah!” He exclaims, frustrated. “Yeah, okay? I’d do any damn thing, whatever it took, to save you. To save Sam. But that’s the problem. We always do that, and it always ends with some screwed up consequences. And that’s gotta stop somewhere. Some day.”

“Totally agree.” You say.

That clearly surprises him.

“But,” You smirk, “Not here. And not today.”

He glances at you, eyebrows raised.

“I’m never going to stop doing whatever it takes to save you, Dean. And you know that. And I know that the real reason you don’t want to use the book to save you is because you don’t think your life is worth the risk involved.”

His eyes go wide as he glances at you once more, but you don’t care. You have never been one to watch what you’re saying, brutally honest or not, and he knows that.

“But guess what, Winchester? You are worth it. And I don’t care how many god damn times I need to tell you that, or show you that, I will. And so will your brother. And so will Charlie. And I know this book scares you. I know it does. I’m not saying you have to agree that it’s the answer. I’m just saying… think about it, okay? Just for a little, while Charlie and Sam try to translate it. And after that, if you’re still so sure it’s a bad idea, and that we should get rid of it, then we will. I will support you. Back you 100%. Promise.”

He looks at you again, his eyes this time full of awe and tenderness.

“Okay?” You ask.

He looks at you a few seconds longer, before bringing a large hand over to squeeze your thigh lovingly.

“Dammit, okay.” He rasps with a smirk.

“Okay.” You answer, grinning back at him.

You and Dean head into a convenience store a few miles from the cabin, nonchalantly strolling the aisles and picking out junk food to bring back. You’re grinning at him, shooting him flirtatious glances that he returns with winks and cocky smirks. Once you’ve got what you need, the two of you flirt your way up to the counter.

“Well, aren’t you two just the cutest?” The tall man from behind the counter drawls out.

You look at each other and laugh him off.

“$15.75.” He says.

Dean pulls out his cash to hand it to the man, and the two of you see the tattoo on his wrist at the same time. You exchange looks immediately, and then draw your guns at the same time, pointing them in his direction.

“Hands. Now.” Dean commands.

The man just smirks at Dean, then you, then Dean again.

He slowly raises them, but as he does you see another man move up behind Dean in a flash, holding a knife to Dean’s throat in record speed. He appears so quickly you don’t even know where he came from.

He doesn’t say anything, but the man behind the counter does.

“Might wanna drop those guns of yours now, hm?” He mocks.

Neither of you drop them right away, but the man presses the knife harder against Dean’s throat, and Dean closes his eyes and clenches his jaw in frustration.

The two of you exchange glances once more, before you both slowly lower your guns to the ground in defeat. As soon as you do, another big guy shows up behind you, gripping your arms and yanking them tightly behind your back, holding you still with a surprising strength.

Yet another one appears behind Dean and does the same to Dean, allowing the one with the knife to take a few steps back. One of Dean’s arms is forced behind his back and the other up behind his head, holding him firmly in a clearly uncomfortable position. He grunts against the hold, but he’s unable to pull away.

The man behind the counter comes around to get closer to you as another man, dressed similar to him, strolls in the front door of the store with a satisfied grin on his face. The two of them stand next to each other as they look at you and Dean.

Great. Now it’s five on two. The odds keep getting worse by the second.

The one from behind the counter speaks up first.

“And who might you two be?” He asks.

Neither of you answer, and that’s when his eyes zero in on the Mark on Dean’s arm as it’s held behind his head.

“Well, well… look at this.” He grins, then glances over to the man standing next to him, who you’ve now noticed has the same tattoo he does. You realize it must be his brother.

“Well, now, where on Earth did you get that special thing?” He asks as he looks back at Dean.

“What’s it to you… Mr. Styne?” Dean grunts, narrowing his eyes.

The man laughs once more.

“Name’s Jacob. This here,” He nods to his brother, “Is Eldon.”

“Mm,” Dean grunts out again, “Yeah, I don’t care.”

They both just grin, and Eldon now takes a few steps forward, eyeing you up and down.

“And who is this little lady?” He asks, his eyes still scanning you lasciviously.

You just roll your eyes, the misogyny and condescending tone already thoroughly annoying you.

He takes another step toward you, still smiling.

“You, uh…” He looks you up and down once more, “You got any special marks on you, too?”

Dean growls in defensiveness of you, pulling fruitlessly against the hold he’s in.

“Yeah,” You scoff, “I got a really special Mark right here on my knuckles, I’d be happy to give you an up-close look.”

He chuckles, his eyes now locked on yours.

“I like you.” He says, wagging a finger at you before turning to Dean and his brother.

Jacob turns, nodding to the snacks still on the counter.

“And who might you be bringin’ all those snacks back to, boy?” He asks.

“I ain’t your boy.” Dean spits. “And it’s none of your god damn business.”

Jacob just grins.

“Would they be for a little redheaded girl, by any chance? Because see, there’s this girl, and she has somethin’ that belongs to us, and we’ve been lookin’ for her for quite some time. And all of a sudden we run into you, here, with that thing,” He points to the Mark, “on your arm. Now see, that just simply cannot be a coincidence.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks, “Why’s that?”

“Because the thing that she has, is a book.” Eldon speaks up now, taking a step closer to Dean. “Special little book. Powerful little book. And it can be used to take that little gift right off your arm.” He glances at you, then back to Dean. “But you already knew that, didn’t you? And you know exactly where it is, don’t you?”

Dean just clenches his jaw and glares at Eldon, but he doesn’t answer.

“You mess around with that book, you’re gonna do far more harm than good.” Jacob states, leaning closer to Dean. “A boy like you won’t be able to handle the consequences of that kind of magic.”

Dean doesn’t let it show, but you know that hearing that must get to him. That the conversation you had in the car about him considering using the book, is probably already out the window now.

“So,” Eldon begins, “How about you do us all a favor and tell us where it is?”

“How about you do us a favor and take the drama down a few levels, huh?” You interject. “I mean, the outfits, the tattoos, the accent… you guys are a bit much.” You mock with a smirk.

Eldon grins at you, taking a few steps toward you until he’s right in front of you.

“You are… an interesting thing, aren’t you?” He checks you out once more, and Dean grunts and squirms again, glaring daggers at him.

You scoff and roll your eyes again.

“An ‘interesting thing’? Really? I mean where do you get this stuff? Is there some kind of creeps of the bayou guide book or something?” You sneer.

He laughs again, before pulling a knife out of his waistband and holding it a few inches in front of your face. You glare at it, and then him, but your face doesn’t falter in the slightest.

“No!” Dean snarls, still struggling against the grip of the large man behind him.

Eldon looks at Dean, bringing the blade to rest against your lips.

“You sure you don’t want to tell me where that book is?” He taunts, still staring at Dean.

Dean’s concerned eyes stare at the knife pressed against your lips, but before he has a chance to do anything stupid, you mumble against the cool metal.

Eldon turns back to you and raises his eyebrows, pulling the knife away slightly.

“What was that, darlin’?” He asks you.

“I said, I’ll tell you where it is.” You huff.

His eyes light up.

“Now, isn’t that a good girl. Well, go on.” He leans closer to you, anticipation all over his face.

You lick your lips and lean closer to him as well. Suddenly, you grin, and with what limited movement you have, you slam your face forward into the bridge of his nose.

You never could resist a good headbutt.

He stumbles backward, and the distraction allows Dean to finally pull himself out of the big man’s holds. You slam your head backward now, into the man holding you, and then spin around and pull his knife from his waistband, plunging it into his heart.

When he doesn’t die right away, you’re confused. He grips your hand, trying to wrestle the knife away, and it takes three more good stabs before he finally falls to the ground.

Eldon’s still clutching his broken nose, and you turn to see Dean somehow fighting off Jacob and the remaining two men all at once.

Damn, guess the Mark does have its perks every once in a while.

He’s seriously outnumbered though, so you immediately grab your gun from the ground, shout Dean’s name, and kick his over to him as he lays on his back, the three of them standing over him.

You raise your gun and fire, hitting one of them 7 times before he finally goes down. Dean does the same, emptying his whole clip into another.

Finally, it’s only Eldon and Jacob left, and you shoot Eldon twice in the chest as he rushes you. He stumbles backward once more, catching himself on the counter.

Dean’s reloading, ready to empty another clip into Jacob, when Jacob and Eldon exchange glances. In a second, they both rush out the door, and by the time you get Dean to his feet and you both rush out after them, they’re gone.

You turn to each other, your chests heaving.

“Nice work, Sweetheart.” Dean pants.

“Yeah, back atcha, tough guy.” You breathe with a nod.

On the drive back to the cabin, you’re calling Charlie and Sam, but neither of them answer, probably both too immersed in translating the book to look at their phones.

You look at Dean, seeing the concern etched all over his face, and you know what he’s thinking. As if he knows you’re reading his mind, he speaks up.

“The book’s gotta go.” He declares, and he says it with such force and determination, you don’t even bother to argue.  
Dammit, you almost had him before. You were so close. But the Stynes just had to show up. Had to confirm Dean’s fears about the book. And now you can see it in his eyes – he’s decided.

And you promised you’d back him.

The two of you rush back into the cabin, surprising both Charlie and Sam with how quickly you’re moving.

“What’s going on?” Sam asks.

“Stynes.” You huff, immediately starting to pack things up.

Sam and Charlie both look shocked and concerned, and Dean explains further.

“They ambushed us at the store.” He says, starting to pack things as well.

“What?” Sam asks, wide-eyed. “How many?”

“Five.” He answers. “I killed one, Y/N got two, and the other two got away.”

Despite the chaos, Charlie raises her eyebrows at you.

“You killed more than Dean did. Nice." She says with an approving nod. "Girl power."

“Yeah, she tends to do that.” Dean says, not looking up as he shoves belongings into bags, “She’s kind of a show off.”

“Well, handsome, anything you can do, I can do better.” You hum.

Charlie smirks at you, and you return her expression, but it fades quickly as you finish shoving your things into your duffel.

“We have to go. Now.” You say urgently, “They probably followed us, they could be here any minute for the book.”

“Speaking of,” Dean says, grabbing the metal box the book is being hidden in, “We gotta burn this.”

He shoves it into Sam’s arms, and Sam just stares at him.

“No, Dean, are-are you sure?” He asks hesitantly.

“Sam, please!” Dean pleads. “Look, it’s bad news, okay? It’s screaming out to me. To the Mark. Right now. It wants me to take it and run away with it. We need to get rid of it.” He pauses, looking deep into his brother’s eyes. “Please, Sammy, just trust me. Burn it.”

Sam looks back for a few seconds, before nodding his head slightly. Just as he does, the front door bursts open and Jacob barrels in, two more large men behind him.

“God, where do they get all these guys?” You question, frustrated.

“Where is it?” Jacob demands, glaring at you.

“Where’s your brother?” You mock. “Little broken nose and some bullets and he’s too scared to come back?”

He smiles at you.

“Oh, Eldon’s gonna be just fine. Bein’ fixed up right now. But don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll see him again. He sure can hold a grudge.”

“Well, I am just shaking in my boots.” You mock.

He looks around once more.

“Where is it?” He repeats.

“Up your ass.” Dean quips.

Jacob just grins. “Have it your way.”

He nods to the two men behind him, who rush in the room. One rushes you, the other Charlie, and Jacob goes at Dean. All three of you fight them off while Sam runs to the fireplace. You’re hardly able to watch him through your fight, but you see him toss the book into the fire and despite everything, your heart sinks a little when you do.

After a few moments and far too many stabs for the average person, you kill the man that had come at you. You turn to see Charlie killing one as well and just then, Dean lands a few solid stab to Jacob’s chest. He grunts in pain, but glares at Dean.

“We’ll never stop.” He groans. “My family will get that book.”

With that, he crumbles to the ground, lifeless. You all look around at each other, the only sound in the cabin the crackling of the fire and the huffs of all of your heavy breaths.

Once the cabin is cleaned up, you decide to head back to the bunker.

Saying goodbye to Charlie is surprisingly hard, although she promises she’ll come over for a girls’ night very soon. You and the boys hop in the Impala, and there’s an almost sad air around the three of you as you drive.

You can’t fight the disappointment you feel, and that you know they feel, too. You had hope, you really thought that maybe this book could be the answer. But you saw the way Dean held it. Heard the way he talked about it. And as much as part of you wishes Sam hadn’t burned it, you know it had to be done.

Plus, you promised Dean you’d back him. And you always will.

You’ll still cure the Mark. You’ll just have to figure out another way. You always do.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to switch it up a little from canon. You guys know me, I always do, I just can't help myself.
> 
> Hope you liked it and thanks for reading!


	61. Chapter 61

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are tense between Dean and the Reader when they get back to the bunker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> This chapter is a little bit of fighting with a lot of shameless smut. That's really all.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

When you get back to the bunker, Dean stomps to his room without a word. You and Sam exchange glances, both of you know that Dean’s frustrated after yet another dead end. You nod at Sam, silently telling him that you’ll handle it, and he nods back. 

You follow Dean into his room, watching as he angrily begins unpacking weapons and clothes from his duffel.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay.” You say.

He scoffs.

“Tell me, does that sound more and more like bullshit to you each time you say it, huh?” He asks. “Cause it sure does to me.”

His attitude catches you off guard, and pisses you off. Even though you know, deep down, it isn’t really his fault. He’s got the Mark. And besides that, he’s tired, stressed, and frustrated. But you can’t help that you have an attitude, too. You always have. He may be a hothead, but so are you. And dammit, you’re tired, and stressed, and frustrated, too.

“Okay,” You caution, trying to keep your composure, “I’m gonna let that go, because I know you’re stressed and taking it out on me. But no, the idea that things will be okay does not sound like bullshit to me.”

“Well, you should wake up then, Sweetheart.” He practically mocks, “Because it is bullshit.”

“Wake up?” You demand. You know you’re a hypocrite for feeding into an argument with him after you just yelled at Sam for doing the same thing, but right now, you can’t help it. “Oh, what – was Charlie right, huh?! Are we giving up now?” You ask.

“No!” He says, “I - I don’t know-"

“You don’t know?” You huff, “Jesus Dean, are you really feeling THAT sorry for yourself?”

“Sorry for myself?!” He shouts, glaring at you.

Oh, he wants to yell? Fine. You can yell, too.

“Yes, sorry for yourself!” You shout back. “You have got ALL of us here, backing you, trying to stay positive and yet you would rather have a fucking pity party!”

He throws his bag down on the ground and takes a step toward you, his eyes dark.

“Pity party?” He growls. “Maybe I’m just the only one around here who isn’t fucking delusional!”

He takes another step toward you, and your eyes trail up and down his body as he stalks toward you. Even during an argument, you can’t help but admire him. The darkness in his features is surprisingly attractive. It’s distracting, the way his chest heaves and his voice has a little extra gravel. He is as alluring as he is frustrating.

“Fucking delusional?!” You ask in a shout. “What, for not giving up on you? Oh that’s rich, coming from you!”

He takes another step toward you.

“The Hell is that supposed to mean?” He demands.

“It means that as usual, you’re the only one who’s allowed to stop at nothing to save the people he loves!” You answer.

“Yeah, SO WHAT?” He steps toward again, only a foot from you at this point.

“So, you’re a fucking hypocrite!” You spit.

At that, he stops advancing, and the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds, both of your shoulders and chests heaving from screaming at each other. As he looks at you, the darkness in his eyes doesn’t fade, but it’s suddenly accompanied by a hunger that is intimidating and unbelievably sexy. You’re both panting, out of breath both from yelling and from the sudden change in the air around you. You realize the heat from the anger in your chest is now moving lower and beginning to pool in your stomach.

Before you can even react, he’s lunging forward, one hand grabbing a handful of your hair at the back of your head and the other gripping you tightly by the hip, backing you up and slamming you against the wall. Your own hands slam against the wall on either side of you. His grip on your hair doesn’t loosen, and it’s tight enough that you can’t move your head on your own. He tilts your head back slightly, forcing you to look up at him and into his sinful eyes as they study you intently.

“A fucking hypocrite, huh?” He whispers.

You swallow hard, mostly just trying to swallow down your arousal before you answer him.

“Yes.” You whisper back.

“You’re not gonna yell at me like that all night.” He states, his voice still no more than a husky whisper.

“No?” You breathe, licking your lips, your eyes still trained on his, “You gonna do something about it?”

“Maybe…” He rasps, his hand on your waist now rubbing circles over your hip bone, the subtle touch immediately making you want more, “I’ll give you something else to yell about.”

You exhale a shaky breath, your defiant demeanor melting away with each touch and each word from him.

He drags his hand from your waist, up your side, and then back down, his calloused palm dragging along your curves. He still has your head tilted up to look at him, and his gaze is both intensely focused and incredibly calm. Like he knows he’s suddenly in complete control.

And it’s almost unbearable how much it’s turning you on.

He drags his hand up once more, this time under your shirt. He kneads your breasts overtop of your bra for a few seconds, until he suddenly pushes your bra up and squeezes your bare breast. He toys with your nipples, his fingers alternating between pinching and squeezing and kneading. You can’t help the quiet moan that escapes your lips as you press your body even further into his touch, but he still has a firm grip on your hair and he tightens it as soon as you move.

“Ah, ah, ah.” He utters, his lips hardly an inch from yours, “Stay put.”

You breathe out once more, realizing you’re incapable of disobeying him right now. And realizing you don’t want to.

He brings his hand down, running it so lightly over your stomach that it almost tickles, before his fingers land at the top of your jeans.

“You’re right,” He whispers, his breath heating your lips, “I am stressed.”

He slowly unbuttons and unzips your jeans, still firmly holding you in place by your hair. He licks his lips and nods subtly, practically growling his words into your parted lips.

“And I am takin’ it out on you.”

He slips his hand inside your jeans and your panties, brushing his fingers over your already throbbing core. You moan out subtly once more, your gaze still locked on his. He presses his fingers a little further, his middle finger now gliding over your slick folds. When he feels that, he bites his lip before speaking up once more.

“And with how fuckin’ wet you are for me right now, Sweetheart, I don’t think you want me to stop takin’ it out on you. Do you?”

You bite your own lip at that, fighting with everything you have to stop yourself from grinding down onto his hand. His dark green eyes are still piercing into you, and you see him reveling in the power he has over you right now; you see just how much it’s turning him on as well.

“Answer me.” He commands.

You shake your head, breathing out a shaky “No,” as you do.

“Yeah,” He drawls quietly, “That’s what I thought.”

With that, he presses his middle finger deep inside you, and you gasp at the immediate satisfaction you feel when he does. He grips your hair even tighter as he presses his index finger in as well, and you squeeze your eyes closed and whine out at the sensation it gives you.

“Hey, hey. Eyes on me.” He huffs.

You open your eyes immediately, completely lost in following his every demand, and you stare back into his lust-blown green eyes. Once you do, he begins moving his fingers inside of you, and you can already feel your legs shaking from the pleasure.

He gradually picks up his pace, now curling and uncurling his fingers inside of you, hitting your sweet spot each times he does and driving you further and further toward your breaking point. He’s pulling pants and whines from your open mouth, and he’s huffing out right along with you as he watches you. He hooded eyes and thick lashes are flicking as he drinks in the pleasure on your face, knowing it is entirely because of him.

Suddenly, he brushes his thumb over your clit, and you can’t hold in your gasp of arousal. He begins rubbing rhythmic circles over your sensitive bud, never once faltering his fingers’ pace inside of you.  
Your hands fly up and grip his bicep, desperate to hold onto something to keep yourself from completely losing it. But when you feel his strong muscles moving under his shirt, it only turns you on more. He looks deep into your eyes, his gaze commanding and serious.

“You’re gonna cum for me now, you understand?” He rasps.

“Mm, fuck!” You moan, overwhelmed by how aroused you are by all of this.

He grips your hair tighter and tilts your head back further, making you focus on him.

“I said do you understand?” He demands.

“Yes,” You whine, “Yes, Dean.”

He growls, nearly losing his control at the way you whine his name, but he recovers it quickly.  
“Now.” He commands, his green eyes boring into yours just as he picks up his pace and presses down even harder on your sensitive clit.

Your orgasm rips through you immediately, and you just keep looking at him, just as he wants, as you gasp and moan out through the waves of pleasure that course through you. He watches you silently, his lips slightly parted, his eyes soaking in your vulnerability as you cum all over his fingers.

He continues to pump his fingers into you as you ride it out, and finally slips them out of you once he can tell you have. He still doesn’t release his hold on your hair, though, and he brings his lips urgently down onto yours. His soft lips press against yours, his tongue insistently pressing past them and entering your needy mouth. You kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his back as you do.

He once again runs his hand roughly up your side as he presses his body against yours, and you feel how hard he is through his jeans. He pulls his mouth away from yours to bring it next to your face, his lips brushing against your ear.

“I am not done with you yet.” He pants.

With that, he pulls you over to the bed, finally releasing his hold on your hair to throw you down onto the mattress. He’s above you in a second, tearing your clothes off with record speed. He yanks your shirt and bra off and drags your already unzips jeans down your legs, tossing all of your clothing to the other side of the room. Once you’re completely bare beneath him he backs up, standing once more to soak in the sight of you.

As he does, he slowly takes his own clothes off, and you silently admire the sight of him as each layer of clothing is removed, until he’s completely nude as well. He slowly crawls up the bed until he’s above you once more, and his hand once again returns to that spot in your hair, gripping even tighter than before.

He pulls your head back and his mouth immediately latches onto your neck, biting and licking and sucking all along your soft skin as his free hand grips your hip, pressing you down hard into the mattress as he begins to line himself up with your entrance. You wrap your arms around his back and your legs around his waist, desperately pulling at him.

“You want it? Huh?” He huffs, in between nips at your neck.

“Yes.” You breathe. “I want you, Dean.”

“Tell me again.” He demands. “Say my fucking name again.”

“Oh, god, Dean, please, I want-"

He presses inside you, bottoming out, and you immediately moan loudly at the feeling of him filling you up.

“Fuck!” He huffs, the pleasure overtaking him as well.

He continues gripping your hair and your waist as he begins to pump into you, rapidly picking up his pace. You’re digging your nails into him, gasping out at the feeling of him filling you up, over and over, so quickly.

He’s pounding into you roughly, and it feels absolutely amazing. He’s looking down at you, his brow furrowed, his eyes still dark, still savoring the control he has over you, and the look on his face alone is enough to make you whine in pleasure once more.

You look into his eyes, and you see how dark they are, how blown out with lust and hunger, and it’s then that you realize – he’s holding back. Despite the fact that he’s gripping you so tightly you can already feel the bruises and he’s pounding into you so hard the bed is slamming into the wall – he is holding back.

You’re only able to focus on that realization for a few seconds when he picks up his pace once more, his hips thrusting into you at such a relentless pace you can’t help but scream in ecstasy and dig your nails even deeper into his skin.

“Fuck, Sweetheart you feel so fucking good!” He growls out before burying his face into your neck, biting down on your shoulder as he continues to thrust into you.

He’s still gripping your hair, and your waist, still biting down onto the flesh of your shoulder, and it all hurts in such an agonizingly pleasurable way that it drags you even closer to your peak.

He feels you beginning to clench around him and he knows you’re close, so he takes his mouth from your shoulder to bring his lips to your ear once more, never once slowing his pace.

“You’re gonna cum for me again, now, Y/N.” He huffs. “Right fucking now.”

With that, the coil inside you snaps once more. You’re gripping him so tightly, crying out a string of ‘Fucks’ and ‘Yeses’ with his name mixed in between. As soon as you do and you clench around him even tighter, that pulls him to his breaking point as well.

He somehow grips you even tighter than he has thus far, holding you so firmly that you can’t move at all – not that you want to. His thrusts stutter as he cums, both of you panting and whining as you ride out your orgasms together.

After a moment, he collapses onto his back next to you. You both breathe heavily for a while before you finally turn your head to look at him.

“Wow.” You pant.

He turns to look at you, a smirk forming on his mouth when he does.

“Yeah, I second that.” He breathes.

It’s quiet for a few more seconds before he speaks up again.

“I’m an ass.” He says.

“Yeah,” You huff, still trying to catch your breath, “You are.”

He looks at you guiltily, and you smile at him.

“But I’d say that was a damn good apology.”

He chuckles.

"Well, I'd say that damn sure worked in relieving my stress, too." He says, and you can see just how much he means it. Just how much he needed that.

"Happy to be of service." You croon.

He chuckles again, but when he sees you eyeing him seriously, he stops.

“What?” He asks.

"You were holding back." You say.

He looks surprised, but the surprise fades quickly. He knows how well you know him, and that you can always see right through him.

“Because of the Mark, right?” You ask.

He looks at you, the darkness that had been in his eyes now replaced with love and honesty.

“I…” He furrows his brows, searching for the right words. When he can’t find them, he just sighs.

“Hey, it’s okay.” You breathe, rolling onto your side and looking at him soothingly, before your lips curl into a satisfied smirk. “Bottom line is, that was something else, Winchester. You are something else.”

“Well, I could say the same to you, Sweetheart.” He drawls with a smirk of his own.

You grin at that, and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his warm chest. You close your eyes, feeling the exhaustion creeping in on you after everything Dean just took out of you. The man can piss you off, that’s for sure. But he sure knows how to make up for it, too.

Even so, he was holding back. And you know you’ll have to talk about that later.

But right now, you don’t want to. And you know he doesn’t either. All you want to do is lay on his chest and listen to his steady breathing as he falls asleep. And before you know it, it’s lulling you to sleep as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Dean was holding back. Yes, that mean the MOC smut might get even.... better?
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Hope you liked.


	62. Chapter 62

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How will the trio deal with the growing power of the Mark of Cain?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> Hope you're having a good day. Happy Monday.
> 
> Please, enjoy.

You wake up slowly, cracking your eyes open to find Dean’s bright green ones already looking down at you, studying your still nude form intently.

You grin up at him sleepily.

“Mmm, morning, handsome. Whatcha looking at?”

He brings his hand to your side, his rough thumb running along your waist. You look down, and see that he’s rubbing over a bruise that’s formed in the spot he had been gripping your waist just last night. Then, he runs his hand up over your side and to your neck, rubbing the spot where you can’t see – but can certainly feel – the bruise from where he sucked and bit at you as he fucked you.

“You’re bruised.” He rasps, dragging his hand once more down to the spot on your hip.

You look down at the bruise fondly, smiling as you remember the actions that caused it, and how amazing it felt.

“Hell yeah I am.” You say, before your eyes finally look back up at him.

It’s then that you see the concern etched on his face, his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched.

“Hey, whoa,” You whisper, sitting up slightly, “What’s wrong?”

“I hurt you.” He croaks, his eyes avoiding yours. “After everything you’ve been through…”

Realization washes over you, and you take his face in your hands, forcing him to look into your eyes.

“Hey, hold on, no, you didn’t.” You explain. “This is different. This is so different.”

He doesn’t look convinced, so you go on.

“Dean,” You take a deep breath, “What happened to me in the past, that wasn’t sex. It was a different thing entirely. It was torture. You cannot compare anything we do to that.” You furrow your own brows now, looking intently into his eyes. “I didn’t have any control over that. I didn’t get to choose what I wanted to happen to my body.”

He swallows hard and his eyes darken at just the thought of what you’re saying, but you can see that he’s really trying to understand what you’re saying.

“But when I’m with you, THAT is sex. Hell, that’s making love. And I choose it. I control it. Even when you’re in control, I still am, too. And I love the way it feels. The way you make me feel. And this-" You take his hand and hold it over your bruise once more, smirking at him as you do, “This is here because I want it to be. And it’s completely different from any other bruises I’ve ever had, because this one felt good. And it is hot.”

He exhales sharply, smiling slightly, but you still see the insecurity.

“Oh, come on, tough guy.” You state, “You’re tellin’ me the great Dean Winchester has never had rough sex before?”

He raises his eyebrows at you, before an even bigger smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Ah, now, Sweetheart, don’t insult me like that.” He utters, mischief in his eyes. “I like to think I made it pretty clear I know what I’m doin’.”

“And I like to think I made it pretty clear I loved every second of it.” You whisper, returning his mischievous smile. “I appreciate you for being so considerate. Really, it’s sexy. But having sex like the kind we had last night doesn’t hurt me. If anything, it’s healing for me. And I know you’re worried about the Mark. About it taking over and taking things too far. But I’m not.”

You study his eyes intently, giving him that look that’s reserved only for the two of you, but he still hasn’t relaxed.

“I don’t know how else to explain it to you, handsome, except to say that last night felt so good.”

You press your body against his, leaning against his chest and looking up into his eyes earnestly.

“Baby, it felt so fucking good.”

He raises his eyebrows, a smirk once again forming on his lips.

“What?” You ask.

“You just called me Baby.” He drawls cockily.

Your cheeks flush for a second at the realization, but you can’t help but smile as well.

“God, and it was hot.” He goes on, his eyes lighting up.

You roll your eyes, but your smile doesn’t fade.

“Guess I really have made you soft, huh, Sweetheart?” He teases.

“Oh, shut up.” You chuckle.

“Is that what we are now, the couple who calls each other ‘baby’?” He asks, his eyebrows still raised and his green eyes playful.

You raise an eyebrow at him as well, before bringing your face forward so that your lips are brushing against his. He swallows hard, his thick lashes flicking to look over your face that’s now right in front of his.

“I guess it is.” You breathe, before pulling your face back and winking at him playfully as you climb out of bed. “But only when you really deserve it, Winchester.”

With that, you grab a towel and wrap it around yourself as you saunter out of the room and toward the shower.

Dean bites his lip as he watches you leave, once again thinking back to last night. It did feel good.

God, good is an understatement.

It felt fucking amazing. It felt so god damn amazing that it almost scares him.

It’s hot, the way those marks on your body make him feel like he’s laid claim to you. Like they’re proof that that perfect body is his and his alone.

Shit, it turns him on just thinkin’ about it.

But it worries him, too.

Because he was holding back, just like you said.

It's not that he's never had rough sex before. Hell, he LOVES rough sex. It's just that he's never had to worry about accidentally losing control before.

And he doesn’t know what this Mark can really do. He doesn’t know his own strength with it. And he doesn’t want to actually hurt you. He can’t let himself do that.

Not again.

And even though you’re not worried about the Mark taking things too far, he is. 

He’s terrified of who he’ll become, and what he’ll be capable of once it takes over even more.

And he knows it’s going to. It’s no longer a question of if it will.

It’s only a question of how much longer he’ll be able to fight it until it does.

But he can’t admit that to you. He can’t worry that pretty head of yours any more than he knows it already is.

He won’t.

At least not yet.

Another week goes by with you and the boys just hanging in the bunker. After that first run-in with the Stynes, you all agreed to drop anything and everything that had to do with them or the Book of the Damned, since Sam burned the book that night at the cabin.

Right now, you’re all just trying to take it easy.

But Dean is still acting weird.

Well, weirder. Every single day.

Holding that book, killing the Stynes, it pulled him just a little further into the darkness. And you can see it. And worse than that, you can somehow see that darkness still growing each day. You can tell it’s starting to get to him. That he’s getting antsy, here in the bunker. Like a dog pacing around in his cage.

And on top of that, Sam’s acting weird, too.

He’s distant, and quiet, and distracted. You don’t feel the same connection you usually have with him, either. But you know he’s probably just worried about his brother. And you can’t blame him for that. Because so are you.

Cass hasn’t been around either. You haven’t seen him or heard from him, and that bums you out, too. You’re just hoping that it’s because he’s getting somewhere with looking for a cure for the Mark, but you know that’s not likely.

Everything just feels off right now. And you don’t know what you can do about it. And it’s driving you insane.

You and Sam are seated at the table in the library, both silently burying yourselves in Mark of Cain research, just like every other day, when Dean gruffly marches into the room.

“Okay, that’s it.” He says, pacing at the end of the table, “I’m losin’ it.”

You and Sam look at each other, and then him.

“I gotta hunt.” He goes on, “It’s been too damn long.”

“Dean, it’s only been, like, a week.” Sam reasons.

“I don’t care, Sam, I’m tellin’ you – I gotta hunt.” He insists.

You and Sam look at each other once more, the worry all over your faces.

“There’s a werewolf. Up in Nebraska.” Dean continues. “Found the article this mornin’. Seems like a milk run. And I’m doin’ it.”

You can tell by the way he’s pacing, the way he’s talking, that he needs an outlet – or he really is going to lose it. But hunting with the Mark is dangerous right now, and more violence could only make him even worse.

“Dean…” You murmur, “You know it’s probably not a good idea.”

“It’ll be fine.” He stops pacing, his eyes boring into you. “It’s just a werewolf. Nothin’ big.”

“Dean…” Sam cautions.

“Dammit, I said I need this!” He shouts suddenly, his tone laced with desperation. He looks immediately apologetic for yelling, and his eyes begin to plead with you and with Sam. “I just… I need this.”

You and Sam look at each other again, silently acknowledging what you both already know. You have no other choice but to go on this hunt with him. You either go with him and keep an eye on him, or he’ll find a way to go on his own. And that could be so much worse.

You both reluctantly agree, and you see the relief wash over him when you do. He shows you the article, and it does seem like a pretty simple werewolf hunt. And it’s only one state over. So, maybe this could be a good thing. For all of you. To get out of the bunker for a little while and do what the three of you do best.

Or maybe that’s just what you’re telling yourself.

An hour later, you’re all on the way to Nebraska. A few hours after that, you’re pulling up at an old motel in the small town where victims’ have been turning up without their hearts.

It’s almost 9:00pm by the time you guys get there, so the three of you head over the bar across the street for a quick bite and a few drinks. Dean already seems more like himself than he has in days, and for that you’re relieved.

He seems happy as he orders nachos and a round of drinks for all of you, and you can’t help but smile and sing along with him when Zeppelin comes on the jukebox. The three of you hang out, eating and drinking for a while, and for a while it’s good.

After your third round of drinks, though, Sam stands pretty suddenly.

“I’m uh… I’m pretty tired.” He states. “Think I’m gonna call it a night.”

“Aw, already, Sammy?!” Dean asks, “I thought we were havin’ a good time!”

“Yeah – uh – yeah, I know. I mean, we were.” Sam answers. “I’m just tired from the drive, I guess.”

Dean just rolls his eyes, but you eye Sam curiously.

He picks up on this, and reassures you.

“I’m fine, really. Just tired.” He smiles at you, “You guys stay. Enjoy.”

You look at him a little longer before finally smiling back subtly and nodding.

“Alright,” You say, “Well, sweet dreams, Ivy League.”

He chuckles and nods back before turning and heading out the door.

“Well, looks like it’s just you and me, Gorgeous.” Dean grins at you.

“Looks like.” You smile back, before your eyes flick to the pool table in the corner of the bar and you raise your eyebrows.

He glances over at it as well.

“Well?” You say. “Wanna make a little money, handsome?”

He grins once more before standing and extending his hand out to you, which you happily accept as the two of you head over to the pool table.

The two of you play each other for a while, with you once again playing up your role as the girl who’s never played pool before in her life. It doesn’t take long for this to catch the eye of a couple guys a few tables over, and eventually they head over to the pool table, offering to play you and Dean for a hundred bucks.

You and Dean exchange knowing looks before accepting, and you lose pathetically for a couple rounds until you’re at triple or nothing and there’s a solid three hundred dollars resting on the corner of the pool table.

You bend over, winking up at Dean as you flawlessly sink your first shot of the game. The guys you’re playing look flustered, but Dean just grins down at you proudly as you go on to sink a few more. The two of you continue this way, winking and flirting and beaming at each other as you play the two men under the table with ease.

Dean looks happy. And you feel happy. And it feels good.

You sink your last shot, standing up and glancing over at Dean with a proud smile on your face. He wraps an arm around your waist and grins down at you, his bright green eyes studying your face with reverence.

“That’s my girl.” He drawls.

And dammit, you still get those butterflies.

Dean’s just about to kiss you when you both notice the guys you had been playing huffing and cursing in the background. Which really doesn’t surprise you. It’s not often you meet a man who is okay with losing to you.

But these guys are pissed, and worse than that, they’re drunk.

“That ain’t fair!” One shouts.

Dean chuckles.

“Well, fellas, I hate to be the one to break it to ya… but life ain’t always fair.”

He glances at you when he says it, and you can’t deny the way his cockiness has always turned you on.

“Yeah, well, you and your piece of ass are god damn cheaters!” The man shouts once again.

And it’s as if you can see the clouds of darkness rush into Dean’s eyes. And you already know this isn’t gonna be good.

He turns back to the man, glaring emerald daggers at him.

“The fuck did you just call her?” He growls.

“You heard me. You and your slutty little piece of ass are crooks.” The man sneers.

Time seems to stop, because deep in your gut, you know what’s coming.

“Dean…” You breathe out a hesitant warning that goes completely unheard.

Suddenly, Dean lunges forward, immediately landing a blow the man’s face. The man stumbles backward, and you see the shock all over his face at the strength behind Dean’s fist. The man’s friend tries to jump in to defend him, but Dean just hits him, too, sending him all the way to the ground with a single punch. Dean turns his attention back to the first guy, and it only half a second before he’s got the guy’s shirt collar in one hand and he’s wailing on him with the other. You rush him, desperately grabbing at Dean’s shoulder as he lands blow after relentless blow to the man’s face.

“Dean!” You shout, trying to pull him out of his fog of rage, “Dean, enough!”

It’s as if he doesn’t hear or see you, though, because he just continues to hit the guy until you’re afraid the dude’s about to lose consciousness. Other patrons of the bar look on in horror, all of them too surprised and too afraid to know what to do.

“God DAMN it, Dean!” You scream, yanking his arm so hard that it finally draws his attention to you. When he looks at you, the expression on his face makes even your stomach flip. His eyes are a darker green than you’ve ever seen them, his mouth curled into an almost inhuman snarl, and his chest is heaving so hard it’s shocking.

He just looks at you for a few seconds, as if your face is this unfamiliar thing he’s never seen before. Finally, his eyes truly focus on yours, and he immediately lets the man go, unclenching his bloodied fist at the same time. The man stumbles backward into a table and you grab Dean by his own shirt, dragging him across the room and shoving him back against the edge of the bar.

“What the HELL?” You demand.

“Did you hear what he said to you?!” He shouts.

“Since when am I a damsel in distress who needs my honor defended, huh?” You ask. “I can handle myself!”

Suddenly, you lunge forward, gripping his forearm hard, right where the Mark is.

“And you need to stop letting THIS make excuses for you to fly off the handle! Do you understand me?”

He looks surprised for a few seconds at just how hard you’re gripping his arm, and how forceful you’re being. But that surprise faces as he looks at you, and he takes a deep breath and nods. You can see the guilt all over his face now, and you know it’s time to get the Hell out of here.

“Stay. Here.” You command.

You turn and rush back over to the pool table, where the two men are now standing there, trying to pull themselves together and stay upright.

You look at them as you grab the cash off the corner of the pool table, waving it at them.

“This money still belongs to this piece of ass. Don’t wanna get your ass beat? Don’t run your mouth. Don’t wanna get hustled? Get better at pool.”

With that, you wink and rush back over to Dean, ushering him quickly out of the bar.

The two of you head back into the motel room, and Dean immediately heads to the bathroom.

“I’m takin’ a damn shower.” He grunts as he slams the door closed behind him.

You sigh as you sit down on the edge of your bed, and it’s then that you notice Sam is nowhere to be seen.

Weird. He came back here hours ago.

You pull out your phone and call him, and he answers after the first ring.

“Hey, Y/N. What’s up?”

“Uh… nothing, Sam, except we’re back at the room and you’re not here.”

“You’re back? Oh, I, uh… I figured you two would be at the bar awhile.”

“Yeah, well, turns out it’s an early night for all of us.” You say. “Sam, where are you? Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah I’m fine.” He assures. “Just… couldn’t sleep. Ran out for some more food. I should be back in like half an hour.”

You hesitate for a few seconds, but there’s too much going on right now for you to question him further.

“Alright, well, bring some food back for your brother, will ya? He could use it.”

“Oh boy.” Sam answers. “Will do. See you soon.”

With that, you both hang up. You just stare at the closed bathroom door, listening to the rushing water behind it.

You sigh again.

You still feel that frustration toward Dean, but it fades quickly. You know how guilty he must feel, and you know it wasn’t really his fault. You have no idea what he’s really going through every day fighting the Mark, or how mentally exhausted he must be.

And now you feel bad for yelling at him.

So you decide maybe you can make him feel better.

You smile to yourself as you open the bathroom door, the steam from the hot water enveloping you immediately. You close the door behind you and pull your t-shirt off over your head as you take another step toward the shower.

“Hey, tough guy,” You say, “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

As soon as he hears you, he opens the shower curtain, and his breath catches in his throat as his eyes immediately scan your body up and down, watching you continue to rid yourself of your clothes. After a few seconds, you’re completely naked and you’re stepping into the shower with him.

His lustful eyes continue to gaze at you, and he looks speechless as he licks his lips, his thick blonde lashes fluttering as his hooded eyes move up and down your bare form. You can’t help but return the favor, admiring the way the beads off water move over his gorgeous face, and down his toned chest and arms. Your eyes freeze when they land on his cock, already hard and twitching from your sudden appearance.

You reach forward, taking it in your hand and gripping it gently. He hisses in arousal, his hips bucking forward at the touch.

You look up at him, your lust-filled Y/E/C eyes staring into his.

“I’m sorry I yelled.” You repeat in a sultry whisper. “Real, real sorry.”

“Yeah?” He huffs, “You gonna prove that to me, baby girl?”

Your already aching core throbs at the deep gravel in his voice as he calls you that, and you lick your lips before crashing them against his, moaning a subtle “Mhmm” into his mouth.

He kisses you back fervently, the kiss growing in passion and aggression with each passing second. Your hand is still gripping his hard member, beginning to move slightly, and you begin to hear the growling of lust and arousal low in his throat.

You’re both panting heavily, gasping out breathes between fervent kisses, when your thumb suddenly brushes over his already leaking tip just as you let out a quiet moan into his lips. This does something to him, because he suddenly growls out louder than you’ve ever heard him just as he grabs you by the throat and slams you back against the shower wall.

Hard.

So hard that it knocks the breath out of your lungs and you gasp in surprise, but you don’t let go of him. He holds your throat tightly, his dark eyes looking at you with a hunger that’s so animalistic it’s almost alarming.

But it also has you aching for him even more, the power that he’s exuding somehow frightening and so incredibly sexy at the same time. He’s still staring at you, studying your face, his chest heaving as he does. Just then, he tightens his grip on your throat just a little more and you cough subtly, but that’s all it takes for him to realize what he’s doing.

It’s as if he’s shaken from a trance, and he lets go of your neck suddenly. His chest is still heaving and his eyes are still wild, but they’re now also laced with concern.

“I can’t.” He whispers, looking down at the Mark on his arm.

You furrow your brows, genuinely confused by that.

“What, why?” You ask, feeling suddenly insecure. “You don’t want to-"

“No, I want to. Fuck, I want to.” He huffs, still looking at you almost as if you’re his favorite meal that he knows he shouldn’t eat. He clenches his fists, clearly fighting the urge to grab you once more.

“I just…” He furrows his brows and clenches his jaw, “I can’t.”

“Dean, you’re not gonna hurt me.” You breathe, trying desperately to reassure him. “We talked about this. I want this. God, Dean, I want you so ba-"

“No!” He growls, catching you off guard once more. He looks at you guiltily, his eyes a mix of shame and lingering lust.

“I just…” He grits his teeth, and you can see he wants you so bad it hurts, “I… can’t.”

Suddenly, he storms out of the shower, grabbing his towel and rushing out of the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind him once again.

You’re left standing there, aroused and confused and surprisingly sad, hating the feeling of being rejected by Dean, even if it wasn’t your fault.

Your heart hurts for him as the warm water continues to fall down around you, and you realize just how afraid he is of the Mark. He truly isn’t sure that he can control himself. And even though you still truly believe he’d never hurt you, it breaks your heart that he thinks he might.

And after everything you’ve been through, everything he knows you’ve been through, he can’t risk going too far. And for that you love him so much.

But dammit, you really wanted him to fuck you.

God knows you both need it.

But instead, you finish your shower, alone and aching for him.

When you finally come out of the bathroom, Sam’s back with the food. You get dressed and the three of you eat in silence, realizing that each one of you has a lot going on in your heads.

And realizing that not one of you knows how to help the others right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would say sorry for being a tease, but you guys know I'm usually not sorry.
> 
> Promise I'll make up for it, though.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed anyway! You know I always appreciate your feedback.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!!!!


	63. Chapter 63

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What consequences will another hunt have on our trio?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> Happy Friday! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it. And I hope you have a great holiday weekend!

The next morning, the three of you get dressed in your FBI outfits with the intention of interviewing the families of the victims. The three victims were all high school boys, found only a couple days apart with their hearts ripped out. You all figure you’ll talk to the families first to find out more about the victims personal life, and maybe you can skip the step of having to go to the police station this time.

The air is still awkward between the three of you as you get ready. You hate it – feeling out of place with your boys. Feeling like they are both struggling, and you don’t know how to help them. You and Dean have hardly looked at each other all morning, but every time you do look at him he looks as if he’s got a million things he wants to say.

Sam’s trying to act normal, joking and smiling and even offering to run out for coffee while you and Dean continue to get ready. You can tell he really doesn’t want you to pick up on whatever is going on with him, but that only makes you even more concerned. Still, you let him pretend for now. You’ve got so much going on in your own head, you can’t even focus on calling him out for whatever’s going on in his. He heads out of the room for the coffees, leaving you and Dean alone once more.

You stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom, buttoning up your dress shirt and smoothing it out when you tuck it in your skirt. You look at yourself in the mirror for a few long seconds, sighing when you realize how exhausted you look. You turn and open the bathroom door, only to find Dean standing right there in the doorway, his green eyes looking at you remorsefully.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs, studying your face intently.

You furrow your brows.

“No, Dean, don’t-"

“Just hear me out.” He says. “Please.”

You stop talking, nodding at him understandingly.

“I’m sorry.” He repeats. “I… Y/N, I hope you know how god damn beautiful you are. I mean,” He breathes out as he looks you up and down, “Jesus, just look at you right now.”

You smile subtly at that, and he goes on.

“Last night, I… I wanted you so fuckin’ bad. I still do. Hell, girl, I want you every second of every day. It’s downright distracting sometimes.” He chuckles slightly. “But, the Mark… it’s makin’ me feel like I don’t have any control. And I just… in that moment, I felt like…” He’s desperately searching for the right words, and you can see him struggling to find them.

“Hey,” You whisper, putting a hand on his chest and looking him in the eyes, “It’s okay. I understand. You don’t have to say it. Dean, you never have to say it. One look at you and I know what you’re feeling… what you’re trying to say.”

The corners of his mouth turn up slightly. “If that ain’t the truth…” He breathes.

“It’s okay,” You repeat, “And it’s going to be okay. We’re gonna figure this whole thing out. And I can see that you don’t right now… but I need you to try to actually believe that.”

He clenches his jaw, looking down at his feet.

“For me.” You whisper. “Please.”

He looks back up at you when you say that, his eyes full of hesitation, but with a glimmer of hope. He just looks at you longingly for a few long seconds before swallowing hard and nodding his head.

“Yeah, okay, Sweetheart.” He finally smiles, his eyes now glistening as he looks at you. “Anything for you.”

You grin back at that, and before you know it he’s pressing his lips against yours, kissing you warmly and softly.

Just then, Sam gets back with the coffees and Dean pulls away, winking at you as he pulls you out of the bathroom and the three of you head out to the first victim’s house.

The first two households give you nothing, the parents of the young men just saying how great their sons were, how they didn’t deserve to die, how they have no idea what could have happened to them. But when you get to the third house, you finally get somewhere.

You’re all seated in the living room, discussing the murders with the victim’s mom over another cup of coffee.

“My poor Shawn.” She murmurs. “I knew he got in with the wrong crowd.”

You raise your eyebrows.

“The wrong crowd?” You ask.

She nods. “Oh, yes. He and those other murdered boys had made some new friends – older boys – that they had been spending an awful lot of time with. In the woods.”

“The… woods?” Sam asks.

She nods once more, leaning forward and lowering her voice to a whisper, “I think they were in some sort of cult. Satanic. Spent an awful lot of time in those woods. Probably performing sacrifices or something.”

You and Dean exchange quick glances, and even though he doesn’t say anything, you just imagine what he would say to you if he could; ‘This broad is nuts’.

Despite that, you look back at her, trying your best to be understanding.

“Did you get any of these new friends’ names?” You ask.

She shakes her head. “No. I told Shawn not to hang around with them… but he just wouldn’t listen. And now look! He became one of their awful sacrifices.” She sniffs.

“Ma’am,” Sam leans forward, laying the puppy dog eyes on thick, “Do you know where exactly they would hang out in the woods?”

She shakes her head once more. “Oh, I don’t know. Shawn said something about a cabin, somewhere near the bottom of the mountain. I told the police, but they don’t believe me. They just think I’m crazy.”

“Well, we don’t.” Sam says, smiling at her slightly before the three of you leave her house, assuring her you’ll do everything you can to find her son’s killers.

“That broad is nuts.” Dean mutters as you walk back to the Impala, and you can’t help but chuckle to yourself.

As soon as you’re in the car, the three of you are brainstorming.

“So, we thinkin’ these ‘satanists’ are just a couple of werewolves lookin’ for easy prey?” Dean asks.  
“Yup,” You say, scooching up in the backseat so that your head is right between the boys, “Probably luring the younger kids to their cabin with promises of booze and parties.”

Dean glances over at you, and the way you’re leaning forward makes your button up shirt open slightly, giving him a perfect view of your cleavage. You don’t even notice it - until you see his green eyes staring. You smirk slightly, but then you see him swallow hard and look away quickly, forcing himself to focus once more on the road.

Your smile fades when you realize he’s still fighting to keep himself away from you, still afraid to get any ideas in his head for just the possibility that he could go too far. A few moments later, you all pull back up to the motel and head inside.

Once you’re all changed back into your jeans and flannels, you continue your research, since your interview with the mother still didn’t give you a whole lot to go on. You’re looking at crime scene photos, Sam is searching for any cabins that may be the one you’re looking for, and Dean is pretending to dig deeper into the victims’ background, but you can tell by his smirk that he’s really just watching the Stooges on his laptop.

But you don’t care. Because at least he looks happy.

After about an hour, Sam finally speaks up.

“I think I got something.”

“Ah, finally, Sammy!” Dean says, “What took you so long?”

Sam glares at his brother.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Dean, did you manage to get any leads from Larry, Moe, or Curly over there?” Sam sasses.

Dean opens his mouth to retort, but you cut him off before he has the chance.

“Okay, fellas, monsters still on the loose, remember? Let’s stay focused.” You chuckle.

They both glare at each other for a few more seconds before Sam turns to you.

“All the bodies were found within a 15 mile radius of one spot in the woods, which happens to actually be at the bottom of the mountain. Now, there’s no record of any cabins in that area, but when I look at an aerial view of the woods, it does look like there’s something there. I’m thinkin’ that must be our cabin.”

“You know how to get there?” Dean asks.

Sam nods, “Yeah, I can use this aerial map to figure it out pretty easily.”

You smile at him.

“Nice work, Ivy League.” You hum. He grins at you, but then looks away from you quickly, looking almost guilty. Before you have a chance to comment on that, Dean jumps up from his seat.

“Well, what are we waitin’ for then? Let’s go gank some wolves.”

With that, the three of you make sure that your guns are loaded with silver bullets and your silver knives are secured, and you’re on your way to the cabin.

During the drive, you can’t help but glance between both boys. Both of them seem to have a problem making eye contact with you through the rear view mirror. You assume Dean’s reasoning is that he’s already got so much pent up sexual frustration that even eye contact will make it worse at this point, and he doesn’t want to be distracted during this hunt. But Sam’s reasoning… you still can’t figure out. He just seems distracted – like his mind is somewhere else.

And in order to successfully take out whatever number of werewolves are at this cabin, you need his mind to be right here. So for all your sakes, you hope he gets it together.

Dean shuts the lights and the car off about a mile away from the cabin, knowing they’ll see or hear the Impala if you get too close. The three of you walk the last mile in silence, and begin scoping the place out as soon as you get close enough.

“Three?” Dean whispers, looking at you and Sam.

“Maybe four.” You whisper back, unsure of exactly how many werewolves you’re seeing through the cabin’s windows.

“I say we can handle it.” Dean whispers.

“Only one way to find out.” You whisper back with a wink.

He can’t help but grin at you, the adrenaline now pumping through the both of you.

“Let’s do it.” Sam agrees with a nod.

With that, the three of you rush up to the cabin, bursting through the doors. You clearly take the werewolves by surprise, all of them jumping up or away from what they’re doing, spinning to face you and bare their teeth at you as they do.

You silently take stock of the room, realizing there are, in fact, four wolves.

Damn, you’re good.

In an instant, they rush at the three of you, two of them going for Dean and the other two splitting up to take on you and Sam. Any other time you might be worried about Dean facing off against two werewolves on his own, but right now, with the Mark – you know he can handle it.

You’re immediately distracted by the monster now in your face, growling and clawing at you right away. You dodge his slashes, lifting the gun that’s already in your hand. But when you hear Sam grunt out loudly and see his gun fly from his grasp, it distracts you long enough for the werewolf in front of you to knock your own gun away as well.

He grins cockily at you before clawing at you again, but you once again dodge his nails – barely, but you do. You punch him in the face, disorienting him long enough to allow you to grab the silver blade from your back pocket and bring it forward quickly, plunging it into his chest. He growls in surprise, looking down, wide-eyed, before collapsing to the ground in front of you.

Your eyes immediately search for the boys. You see that Dean’s lost his gun, too, but he’s also already managed to kill one of the wolves with his knife. He’s struggling with one wolf now, same as Sam. But right when you look at Sam, you see the werewolf throw him face-first against the wall, and you see Sam’s head bounce off the wall before he falls to the ground. 

God dammit, you knew he was off his game.

His head is bleeding immediately, and you see the werewolf now advancing, lifting his claws over Sam’s disoriented form. You rush over to help him, thinking the werewolf is so distracted by Sam that he won’t sense you coming.

But you’re wrong.

He spins around, his claws already raised, and before you can react, he’s burying them into your side. He swipes them from your side across half your abdomen, and you shout in surprise. Despite that, you manage your shove your blade into his chest, and he growls out in pain as well before crumbling to the floor.

You clutch your side and lean against the wall, but your own injury isn’t really concerning to you once you look over to Dean.

You see him stab the last wolf in the chest. But you also see the rage in his eyes as he does. And honestly, stab isn’t really the appropriate word. He doesn’t just stab the wolf, he guts it. He plunges the blade into his chest, but then he yanks the blade down, splitting the wolf in two. His mouth is curled into a snarl, his eyes insanely dark, and you can hear the growl that escapes his lips as he finally rips the blade from the monster’s gut, shoving him to the ground as he does.

He pauses, his chest heaving as he looks down at his prey, and in that very second you can see just a little more of the darkness spread through him.

And it’s terrifying.

He finally shakes himself out of his trance and looks over at you and Sam. You’re crossing your arm over the hand that’s gripping your side, so he can’t see your injury right away, and you can’t really even feel it, your concern for both brothers’ outweighing your own senses. Dean rushes to Sam, who is still disoriented as the blood drips down his head.

“Sammy! Hey, Sam! You okay?” He asks, dropping to his knees next to Sam, his worried eyes scanning over his little brother.

Sam blinks a few times, wincing as he touches his injured head.

“Yeah,” He finally murmurs, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

You see the relief flood through Dean when he realizes Sam’s alright, and you feel that same relief flood through you as well. But it’s also then, as the adrenaline and concern fade, that your own pain arrives. You furrow your brows as you uncross your arm from your midsection and look down at your hand gripping your stomach, feeling the blood beginning to slip past your fingers as you do. You look from your injury back over to the boys.

“Dean.” You breathe quietly.

He looks up at you, his breath catching in his throat and his eyes going wide when they land on your side. He leaps to his feet and rushes you, catching you just as your legs begin to give out beneath you.

“Ah, shit!” He shouts, lowering you down onto the floor so that he can get a better look at your injury.

You wince, still tightly gripping your side, honestly not really wanting to look and definitely not wanting him to see.

“Come on, Sweetheart, I gotta see it.” He says shakily, his eyes pleading with you.

You nod, releasing your clutch on your side. He lifts your shredded shirt to get a better look, and instantly exhales sharply, his green eyes going even wider.

“That good, huh?” You chuckle breathlessly.

“No, no, no, you’re okay. You’re alright.” Hey huffs. “It’s not even that bad. Hey, it’s not even that bad.” He repeats, his voice hurried and panicked.

It’s then that you finally look down at yourself, and you have to admit the sight even takes your breath away for a split second. There are five distinct slashes spreading a solid six inches from your left side across part of your stomach. The blood trickles rapidly out of each one, and every intake of breath sends pain shooting from your side throughout your whole body.

You grunt and wince once more, squeezing your eyes closed to push the pain down. Dean furrows his brows, his eyes flicking back and forth from your wound to your face in a panic. He yanks his flannel off, balling it up and pressing it against your side, eliciting another pained grunt from you.

“Ah, ha, ha,” You breathe out a strained chuckle, “I’m okay. I’ll be fine.” You open your eyes and look at Dean, then at Sam, who is just looking down at you guiltily, swallowing hard, speechless.

“Lost a lot more blood than this before, fellas.” You laugh, “Remember?”

“We need Cass.” Dean states hurriedly as he pulls out his phone and dials Cass’ number.

The call goes straight to voicemail, so Dean immediately dials again. It once again goes straight to voicemail, and Dean growls out in frustration.

“Dammit, Cass!” He shouts, “Where the Hell is he?!”

“Uh, maybe he… maybe he-“ Sam stumbles over his words, “He must just be busy.”

“Busy?!” Dean roars, “Too busy for this?!”

Sam doesn’t answer, just furrows his brows and swallows hard once more, his eyes still fixed on you and your steadily bleeding wound.

“Hey,” You breathe around the dryness in your mouth, “Don’t worry about it. I-I’m okay.”

You try to sit up, to show that you’re fine, but all that does is force a strangled gasp from your throat when the pain tears through you once more and the blood seeps further into Dean’s flannel, snug against your side.

“Fuck-" Dean huffs, “No, no, no, no, don’t do that. Ah, god-" He lifts the flannel slightly, to see if the bleeding has slowed, but the furrow of his brows tells you it hasn’t, “God… just… Y/N, you better fuckin’ stay with me.”

You chuckle out breathlessly once more before lazily locking eyes with him.

“I’m not going anywhere, Winchester.”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t beginning to feel light-headed and cold, but you’re not telling him that. And more than that, it doesn’t matter. You’ve fought through worse than this, you’ll fight through this, too.

He lets out a strained laugh.

“Damn right you’re not.” He looks around frantically for a few seconds, deciding what to do next. He looks up at his brother, breathing out, “Baby.”

Sam’s eyes go wide when he, too, remembers the Impala is still parked a mile away from where you are now.

“I’ll get it.” Sam says quickly, and Dean throws him the keys. Sam rushes to the door but stops, turning around to look at you. “I - I’m sorry.”

“Sammy, go!” Dean demands, “Hurry!”

Sam just nods quickly, his eyes landing on you once more, before he runs out the door. Once he’s out, Dean looks back down at you, his green eyes dripping with fear.

“How did this happen?” Dean asks, “How the Hell did this happen?”

You just look at him, unable to bring yourself to tell him what happened. You don’t want him blaming Sam, because that won’t help anything. And you don’t want him making Sam feel any guiltier than you’re sure he already does.

“I… I don’t know.” You murmur, “Doesn’t matter. The past is the past, right?” You chuckle.

He gazes at you longingly, his green eyes closely studying your face.

“You are so god damn beautiful.” He rasps.

That catches you off guard, and you can’t help but raise your eyebrows and wince out another laugh.

“Oh yeah? Even right now?”

He continues looking at you, the sincerity in his features intoxicating.

“Always.” He whispers.

Despite the pain in your gut, you still feel the butterflies. But they’re quickly followed by another surge of pain that causes you to groan out and clutch tightly onto Dean’s wrist as he holds the flannel against you.

“Hey, hey, hey,” He whispers, “Look at me. Look at me, Sweetheart. That’s it. Right here. Keep holdin’ on to me, you understand?”

You look into his eyes, your hand still gripping him tightly, and nod your head.

“I will if you will.” You breathe.

“Don’t worry about that,” He drawls, “Cause I ain’t ever lettin’ you go, baby.”

More butterflies.

You raise your eyebrows and grin, “Baby?”

“Yeah, see - you like it too, don’t ya?” He smirks.

You chuckle, but that sends more pain shooting through you, and you squeeze him even tighter just as you also squeeze your eyes shut.

“No, no, no, come on.” Dean urges desperately, looking around the room. “Okay, uh, Sammy’s gotta be back any minute. Let’s get out there and be ready for him, huh?”

You open your eyes and look at him, understanding what he’s saying. You nod subtly, reaching out to take his place in holding the flannel against you so that he can wrap his arms under you. He lifts you in one swift motion, pulling you tightly into his chest as he does. You can’t help but bury your face in his chest, inhaling the whiskey and the leather and feeling immediately relaxed, no matter what is going on.

He rushes you outside and a few moments later you hear the roar of the Impala pulling up. Dean climbs into the backseat, laying you down across the seats and pulling your head into his chest, trying his hardest not to disturb your wound. You relax into his lap, and he immediately begins pressing down on your wound once more. You wince in pain, but his other hand lands in your hair, gently stroking and tangling in the loose strands.

“Sammy, go.” He demands, and Sam obliges, flying down the road instantly.

You feel yourself falling in and out of consciousness throughout the drive, with Dean’s constant pleas of “Sweethearts” and “Stay with me’s” keeping you from falling into the darkness. Sam’s driving as fast as he can, and even though you’re not fully aware of your surroundings, you are certain he’ll get you home as fast as humanly possible.

You begin to close your eyes once more, and you hear Dean again.

“Hey, darlin’, look at me. C’mon, let me see those beautiful eyes.” His voice is shaky, but stern.

You open your eyes and focus them on his, and despite the concern in them, you can’t help but smile. You let out a quiet chuckle and he smiles slightly at that, raising an eyebrow at you.

“What’s so funny?” He asks.

“Just… this feels kinda familiar, doesn’t it?” You tease tiredly.

He exhales sharply. “Yeah, yeah - and I hated it just as much the first time.”

“Wouldn’t really be a good time for all of us unless one of us almost dies, right?” You breathe.

“Yeah?” He lets out another strained chuckle, “And why does that someone usually gotta be you?”

“Ah,” You wince but then wink at him, “Guess I’m just lucky.”

“Well,” He murmurs, stroking your hair gently, “I think I’d have to debate you on which one of us is the lucky one, Sweetheart.”

You grin up at him, and he pulls out his phone, dialing Cass once more. When it goes to voicemail, Dean growls under his breath.

“God dammit, Cass.” He hangs up the phone and shoves it angrily back into his pocket.

“Hey,” You whisper, drawing his attention to you once more. “I’m gonna be fine. Promise.”

He smiles at you.

“Oh, I’ll make sure of that.” He says, “Once we get you back and I stitch you up, you’ll be good as new.”

“Mmm, Doctor Dean.” You whisper in as sultry a voice as you can muster right now.

He chuckles. “That’s right. You wanna be my sexy nurse?” He asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

You laugh, which rocks you with another shock of pain. You grip Dean and wince, before you feel sleep once again begin to tug at you. The panic washes over Dean’s features once again, and he looks up urgently at his brother in the driver’s seat.

“Sammy, you gotta hurry, man!”

“I am, I am! Almost there!” Sam responds, exasperated.

A few moments later, you’re finally pulling up back at the bunker. Dean pulls you from the car so smoothly it’s impressive, rushing you down the stairs and into the infirmary, Sam right by his side. Through your semi-conscious state you groan in complaint, and Dean chuckles breathlessly.

“Yeah, yeah I know you hate it in here, Sweetheart. But we gotta do this in here, okay? Doctor’s orders.”

You grin at that as he places you down gently onto the nearest bed.

“Whatever you say, Doc.” You jest quietly.

He laughs again as he drags a chair next to the bed, sitting down in it as he finally pulls the bloodied flannel away from your side to once again get a look at the slashes in your stomach. He swallows hard and clenches his jaw before immediately turning to grab supplies.

“Sam. Whiskey!” He demands. And despite everything, you’re distracted by how sexy he is right now.

Dean begins cleaning your wounds while Sam runs to the kitchen and returns seconds later with a bottle, handing it to his brother. Dean takes a large swig before handing it to you, and you grin languidly in gratitude before taking a sip of your own.

Dean pauses, holding the threaded needle just above your cuts, and looks at you.

“This is gonna be a lot, you hear me? S’gonna hurt like a bitch.” His eyes study you intently.

You grin at him, take another sip of whiskey, then give him a sluggish nod.

“Give it to me, Winchester.”

He grins back, winks at you, and then he begins.

After over an hour of Dean stitching you up, which can be described as nothing less than excruciating, he’s finally sewn up all your wounds. It becomes clear to all three of you that you got extremely lucky, because had those claws gone even half an inch deeper, your insides would’ve been shredded right along with your skin.

“How are you still conscious?” Sam half laughs out as you wince through Dean cutting the last of the thread from your stitches. He shakes his head at you, looking both impressed and incredulous.

You grin at him, sitting up slightly in the bed and leaning against the wall behind you.

“Didn’t wanna miss a minute with you two goofs.” You answer him with a smirk, before looking over at Dean. Dean smiles at you, the relief evident all over his face now that he’s sure you’re gonna be alright.

Sam laughs at your response, before his face falls suddenly.

“Y/N, I - I’m sorry. If I hadn’t screwed up back there…” He furrows his brows, the guilt all over his face.

As you look at him, you can’t help but notice how exhausted he looks.

“Hey, hey – don’t worry about it, Ivy League. We’re all good. Thanks for getting us home so quickly. If hunting doesn’t work out, you could have a career in NASCAR.”

He and Dean both laugh at that, and you look at Sam earnestly.

“Go get some rest, Sammy. I’m okay.” You murmur.

He looks at you for a few seconds before exhaling slowly, his body relaxing slightly. He strides up to you and leans over, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

“Really glad you are.” He utters before standing straight, nodding at his brother, and heading out of the room.

Dean looks at you for a few seconds more.

“You scared the Hell outta me.” He rasps.

“I have a habit of doing that, don’t I?” You say playfully.

He laughs and nods, looking down at his hands, and you suddenly feel bad when you see how shaken he still looks.

“Sorry, tough guy.” You whisper.

“No,” He breathes before looking up at you, “No, I’m sorry. Because I know I scared you, too.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, unsure of what he means.

“I know you saw me.” He furrows his brows and licks his lips before continuing, “Killin’ that werewolf.”

Your throat goes dry.

“I…” He sighs, looking down ashamedly once more, “I know what I must’ve looked like. I – God, Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t – I’m losin’ control and I don’t know how to get it back.”

Your heart aches at the pain all over his features, the burden on his shoulders evident all over his face. You reach out and squeeze his hand tightly, and he looks into your eyes.

“You are not alone, Dean. I’ll help you get control again. We will figure it out.”

He clenches his jaw and looks down once more, and you go on.

“And I am never scared of you. Only scared for you. The Mark is a curse.” You squeeze his hand once more. “It’s something you have – it’s not something that you are.”

He looks up at you suddenly at that, and there’s a hint of a smile in his eyes when he does. He doesn’t say anything, though. He just picks up the gauze and begins wrapping it around your midsection to protect your stitches. It amazes you how incredibly gentle he is while he does it. You watch him closely, and you can’t help but notice how vastly different he looks right now compared to how he looked when he was killing that werewolf. The vulnerability, the softness in his features is in such stark contrast with the stone-cold fury and violence he exuded then.

It warms you, the fact that you still get to see this side of him. The fact that this side of him is still a part of him at all. It reminds you of who he really is. Who you’ve always known him to be.

When he finishes wrapping you up, he sees you focusing so closely on him, and looks immediately insecure.

“What is it?” He asks quietly.

“I just…” You take a deep breath, “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

He’s taken aback by this, you can tell. His lips part, but nothing comes out. He just looks at you tenderly, unable to put whatever he’s thinking into words.

“You are…” You exhale sharply, shaking your head, “Fucking incredible. Brave, and strong, and gentle, and good.”

The emotion is all over his face now as he listens to you, his green eyes focused, completely engrossed in you.

“I just... I know you don't hear that enough. That you never have. But you need to be reminded of that. Because I know you don’t see it – or believe it – but, God, Dean, you’re just so-"

He lunges forward in his seat suddenly, grabbing your face and pressing his lips so urgently against yours that it takes all your breath away. You melt into it, kissing him back and moving your lips with his. The kiss is so passionate, so strong, that it leaves your body buzzing when he finally pulls his lips from yours.

He presses his forehead against yours, squeezing his eyes closed and still holding your face tightly.

“Whatever good I still have in me,” He rasps, “I still have it because of you.”

“No,” You say, pulling back so that you can look into his eyes, “You have it because of you.”

He smiles, his perfect crow’s feet crinkling and his bright teeth glistening, and it’s impossible for you not to smile back.

“You got room in that bed for two, Gorgeous?” He drawls.

“For you? Oh, I think I can find the room.” You croon.

He moves forward, gently crawling into the small infirmary bed next to you, carefully helping you get comfortable against him. He once again runs his fingers through your hair, and you close your eyes as you bury yourself into his strong chest.

“Yeah,” He breathes quietly, “I’d definitely say I’m the lucky one.”

You smile into his chest.

“Let’s just call it even, Winchester.”

Sam sits alone at the library table, staring down at the smooth wood as he nurses a glass of whiskey. You told him to get some rest, but how can he – when he knows it’s his fault you got hurt in the first place?

Of course, you’d never let him feel bad for that. You’d get hurt saving him a million times and never once let him feel like it’s his fault. Which somehow makes him feel even more guilty.

It’s true, he’s been distracted. He knows you’ve picked up on it. You can read him and his brother like a book – you always have been able to. He just considers himself lucky you haven’t called him out on it yet, because if you do, he isn’t sure he’ll be able to lie to you.

Sad as it is, he’s used to lying to Dean. He hates doing it, but he’s done it before. But lying to you, that’s something else altogether. Every time he looks into your eyes, he wants to let it all spill out. And he has a feeling - deep in his gut – that one of these days, he’s going to.

He knows why Cass didn’t answer Dean’s call; why he isn’t here to heal you.

He knows why he’s so off his game.

He knows a lot of things that you and Dean don’t right now.

He knows that he never burned the Book of the Damned. That he smuggled it home with him. That he’s got Rowena and Charlie secretly working on cracking it, and Cass there to babysit them as they do.

And he knows that you’d both kick his ass for lying to you.

But he also knows he needs to save his brother.

For Dean, and for you.

So, he just takes another sip of his whiskey, swallowing his guilt down along with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!!!
> 
> I promise a whole lot of shit is about to come to a head in the next few chapters.
> 
> As always, hope you enjoyed!


	64. Chapter 64

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is losing control, so how can the Reader help him get it back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> Alright, I don't know about you, but I have been severely depressed about yesterday being the last day of filming. If you are, I really hope this chapter helps cheer you up a bit.
> 
> Writing it certainly helped cheer me up. ;-)
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and have a great weekend!

Another week goes by after the werewolf hunt, and you’re slowly beginning to heal more and more each day. The boys are tending to you – as they do – even though you continue to tell them you can take care of yourself.

Truthfully, you are feeling stronger and stronger each day. Sure, the stitches are a little sore, but they’re honestly nothing next to what you’ve dealt with before. You figure as long as you lay low for a little while and keep the stitches protected for a couple more weeks, you should be just fine.

Besides, your own health truly isn’t your concern as of late.

It’s these damn boys.

Sam’s still sulking around the bunker, acting sketchy despite how hard he’s trying NOT to act sketchy. He leaves a lot, but you’ve been pretty sure that’s just because seeing his brother slowly slipping into darkness has been tough on him, and for that you can’t blame him. The guy deserves some fresh air sometimes, right?

And then there’s Dean.

You know that the talk you had with him the night you got hurt did get through to him. That it meant something. He’s trying so hard to stay positive, especially around you. But you also know the Mark doesn’t operate on rational thought. So the Mark doesn’t care how many times you explain to him how great he is, how much you love him, how hard you’ll work to help him through this.

The Mark just wants violence. It wants to take control away from Dean, no matter how hard he fights to keep it.

And he’s slowly going stir crazy, yet again. It’s as if he can’t relax, can’t even sit in one spot for more than a few minutes. And you know that’s the Mark scratching at him, telling him that he needs to go out and kill something.

He’s hardly sleeping at this point. He’ll curl up in bed with you and you’ll wake up only a couple hours later to find the space next to you already empty. He still kisses you, still holds you, still grins every time he sees your face, but he’s putting space between you.

This man – who would usually jump at any chance to touch you – has thoroughly avoided having sex with you, or even touching you too much, for fear that he might lose control and hurt you. You’re so used to jumping each other’s bones the second you have some time alone, that you’d be lying if you said this wasn’t a major adjustment. The sexual tension between the two of you grows every day, and it’s reached the point of being almost painful.

Despite that, you’re trying not to push him. You don’t want him to feel pressured to sleep more, or eat more, or touch you more, because you know the weight that’s already on his shoulders. And you know how hard he’s trying.

But God, do you miss him.

Today, Sam’s disappeared for the morning once again and you’re hanging in your room, absentmindedly cleaning your guns when you hear a subtle knock on your open door. You look up to find Dean standing in the doorway.

“Well, hey there, handsome.” You say with a smile.

He grins at you as he steps into your room.

“Hiya, Gorgeous.”

“How you doing?” You ask, putting your gun down on the desk next to you and standing, taking a step toward him.

He falters for a second, his happy façade slipping slightly before he smiles again.

“I’m doin’ great.” He says. “Fan-damn-tastic.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, taking another step toward him.

“Dean.” You murmur.

Immediately, his smile drops and he furrows his brows, looking down at his boots.

“I gotta go.” He mumbles.

“What?” You ask urgently.

He looks up at you.

“I… I gotta go. Just gonna clear my head for a day or two. Take a drive.”

You cock your head at him.

“Dean Winchester… after everything we have been through together, you really think you can lie to me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” He utters guiltily.

“A ‘drive’? Really?” You question. “You and I both know you wanna leave to go hunt something.”

He looks at you for a few seconds, clearly trying to decide if he’s even going to bother pretending any longer. He lets out a long sigh, which tells you he’s not.

“I need to do this.” He states.

“No, you don’t. The Mark is telling you that you need to do this. Which is exactly why you shouldn’t.” You say, crossing your arms.

“That’s the same thing!” He exclaims. “The Mark tellin’ me I need to, means I need to. I can’t stop it. I… I can’t control it.”

“Yes, you can.” You assure confidently.

He looks exasperated and frustrated as he looks at you.

“You got no idea how this feels!” He says.

“Then tell me!” You exclaim. “Let me in, Dean, let me help you!”

“You can’t help me!” He shouts. “Right now, hunting - that’ll help me.”

“Look me the in the eyes and tell me you honestly believe that.” You state.

He doesn’t respond to that.

“Hm?” You say, taking another step toward him. “Go ahead. Look me in the eyes and tell me that going out there and ripping something apart is actually going to be GOOD for you right now.”

“Y/N…” He breathes.

“Exactly.” You say. “That’s the Mark talking, not you. Because YOU know that going on a hunt right now is a bad idea.”

He furrows his brows, looking into your eyes.

“Doesn’t matter.” He croaks. “I’m goin’.”

You scoff.

“Right, and I suppose it’s a coincidence you decide to go now, when’s Sam’s not here and I’m the only one around to stop you.”

“Sweetheart, you can’t stop me.” He says.

You scoff again.

“Watch me.”

He shakes his head, turning to walk out the open door. You rush around him, slamming the door closed and locking it, then leaning back against the door defensively.

“Y/N, don’t do this.” He states, trying to bite down his impatience.

“Dean, you’re not going.” You command.

“I have to. I don’t have control. The Mark-"

“Bullshit.” You murmur.

He furrows his brows in offense.

“You want control, take control.” You say.

He exhales sharply.

“You think it’s that easy?!” He questions, annoyed.

“Of course it’s not easy.” You state, your eyes boring into his. “But try. Just for this moment, try. I’ll help you.”

He glares at you.

“Y/N, move.”

You glare right back.

“Dean, no.”

“I have to do this.” He says angrily, taking a step toward you.

“No, you don’t.” You quip right back, still leaning against the door.

He exhales sharply in frustration.

“Yes, I do.” He takes another step toward you.

“No, you don’t.” You respond. “Take back the control.”

“God dammit, I said I can’t!” He yells, slapping an open palm on the door just above your head.

You don’t jump; you’re not fazed by him at all, despite the fact that he looks instantly guilty when he does it.

He doesn’t remove his hand though, and his face is now only inches away from yours, both of your heated breaths intermingling, the intense energy now surging between the two of you.

“You wanna bet?” You whisper.

He looks suddenly intoxicated by you, but the hesitation is still all over his face.

“I don’t… I can’t…” He breathes.

“You’re not gonna hurt me, Dean.” You say. “You keep talking about the Mark being in control, but it’s not. You are. WE are.” You lick your lips and lean closer to him, your breath heating his lips, “I promise you… you have so much more control than you realize.”

His hand that’s still above you on the door now balls into a fist, and he grits his teeth as his lips nearly brush yours.

“I want you so fucking bad.” He whispers.

“Then take me, Dean.” You whisper back. “Show me how you take control.”

He growls at that, his knuckles white from holding himself back.

“Y/N…” He breathes roughly, shaking his head in uncertainty.

“I am not scared of you.” You murmur.

“Maybe you should be.” He growls.

You smirk slightly at that, leaning forward so that your lips are finally brushing his.

“Well, I have always liked danger, haven’t I?” You whisper into his parted lips.

He furrows his brows and growls once more before he can’t take it any longer, and he presses his lips urgently against yours, hard and demanding.

His hands are instantly all over your body, rubbing and touching and tearing away at your clothes until you’re completely naked before you know it. His rough hands grip you tightly all over, squeezing hard. Your hands are all over him, too, the pent-up need that you’ve had for him finally coming out all at once.

You grab the hem of his t-shirt and yank it off over his head. But just as you do, he shoves you back against the door. You look into his eyes, and the burning intensity of his dark green gaze has your heart suddenly in your throat.

“Knees.” He commands. “Now.”

You suddenly hear the sound of your own breathing, and feel the heat pooling deep in your stomach already. Without a second thought, you drop to your knees. Before you even hit the ground, he’s unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans.

His heated gaze stares down at you, locked on your face as he pulls out his hard cock. Your eyes flash from his face to his dick, and you can’t help but bite your lip when you see it.

“This what you want?” He asks.

You swallow hard before bringing your eyes back up to look at him. You nod at him, and he raises his eyebrows at you.

“Prove it.” He rasps.

Your stomach is doing flips, your excitement nearly overwhelming you. Without wasting a second, you take his shaft in one hand and wrap your lips around his tip. He grunts instantly, closing his eyes and bucking his hips in arousal.

You take him down completely a few times to coat him with your saliva, before licking over his already leaking tip. You suck and lick at his tip as you jerk the rest of him rhythmically with your right hand, cupping and massaging his balls with your left. You hear him growl from deep within his chest, and you look up at him hungrily as you move your mouth on him.

He licks his lips, drawing his bottom lip up between his teeth as he looks down at you so intensely that you can feel your core aching. He reaches out, both hands gripping tight handfuls of your hair. Slowly at first, he begins to move himself in and out of your lips, and you happily open your mouth to allow it. As he pumps in and out of your lips, you flick your tongue against him.

He groans, picking up his pace as he does. You let him, your hands now gripping his thighs on either side. You relax your mouth, opening your throat to allow him to fuck your face even more quickly now. You’re humming in satisfaction as he does, sending a vibration through his cock, which draws another deep growl from him.

He looks down at you, and you look up at him, your eyes teary but eager, and he huffs out in exasperation when he sees you.

“Jesus, Sweetheart, fuckin’ look at you.”

You smile at him with your eyes, humming once more on his dick. His chest rumbles once more before he stops suddenly, pulling you to your feet and looking into your eyes.  
“Nah, we’re not even close to done yet.” He rasps. “I wanna savor you for a while.”

He grabs your chin roughly, his thumb caressing your skin but his hand holding you firm. His boot-clad feet kick your legs apart, and he reaches down with his other hand and runs his fingers along your wet folds, causing you to inhale sharply.

“You are so fuckin wet for me right now, aren’t you?” He questions, his voice deep.

“Mhmm.” You hum. “All for you.”

He shoves his fingers inside you, and you whine in response. He moves them for only a few brief seconds before suddenly pulling them out. You whine once more, this time at the loss of his fingers, but he just brings them up to his lips, looking into your eyes as he licks them.

“You taste so god damn good.” He states. “Always have.”

You bite your lip, the sight of his own plump lips licking you off of his fingers arousing you even further.

“You wanna taste yourself for me, Sweetheart?” He asks.

You swallow hard and nod.

He continues gripping your chin, holding your face still as he brings his fingers up to your lips. You open your mouth, allowing him to slowly push them inside. You roll your tongue over his fingers, your lips slurping and sucking at the salty sweet taste of yourself on his skin.

He closes his eyes and groans, biting his lip before looking at you once more.

“That fucking mouth.” He growls. “I love that fucking mouth.”

You buck your hips towards him, desperate for some friction on your aching center. He raises his eyebrows, still holding your face firmly.

“You want something? Huh, Sweetheart?”

You release his fingers from your mouth with a ‘pop’, looking into his eyes.

“I want you to touch me.” You hum.

He leans closer to you, his breath on your lips.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that, darlin’.”

“God damnit, Dean, please touch me.” You plead.

His serious face resolves into a cocky grin for a few brief seconds.

“Atta girl.” He rumbles.

With that, he pushes his fingers inside you once more, immediately curling them into your sweet spot and sending a sudden rush of pleasure through you.

You whine out and writhe in surprised bliss, but he continues to hold you still against the wall, his iron grip on your face never wavering. You’re moaning as he moves his fingers inside you, your hands flying out to grab around the back of his neck, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to your breaking point every second.

“Hey, hey, look at me. Focus.” He demands.

You open the eyes you didn’t even realize you’d shut, looking into his commanding stare. He lowers his voice to a whisper.

“Don’t fucking come until I tell you. You’re mine right now. I’m in charge. I’m in control. And you don’t come until I tell you to come.” He studies you seriously. “Understand?”  
His words, and the way he growls them out, make it even harder for you to fight the arousal in your core. He must notice this, because he tightens his grip on you and growls even louder.

“I said focus.”

You force yourself to focus on him even further, and when you do, you notice just how hungry and lust-blown his green eyes are. But more importantly, you notice how controlled they are.

“You gonna be good?” He asks, “Hm?”

Despite your brain being fogged by arousal, you can’t help the smirk that crosses your lips as you look at him.

“Am I ever?” You huff playfully.

He smirks back, pulling his bottom lip up in between his teeth and raising an eyebrow at you. Suddenly, he pulls his fingers from you and spins you around, pinning you face-first against the wall. He has one hand holding roughly to the back of your neck, pressing you against the wall, and the other running up and down your body. You silently note that in the midst of all of this, he’s managed to carefully avoid the wound on your side.

He shoves his jeans and boxers down further and presses forward, and you feel the tip of his hard cock between your thighs, teasing along your soaking center. You moan deep in your throat, wanting nothing more than for him to fill you up completely.

He brings his lips to the shell of your ear, his breath sending sparks of electricity through you.

“Oh, trust me, you’re gonna be good right now.” He states breathily. “Because you’re all mine. You do what I say. And I’m tellin’ you, be good.”

He runs his tip along your folds once more, nearly pressing inside you, and you whine out in need.

“Let me ask you again,” He breathes, “You gonna be good?”

Normally, the playful stubbornness inside you would tell you to defy him further, not to give in to him so easily. But God, you want him so bad. You’re a complete and utter puddle of need, entirely and happily at his mercy right now.

You close your eyes and moan, humming out, “Yes.”

You can feel him smiling against your ear, and you’re so aroused that you can help but grind your own hips back against him. Now it’s him who whines out at the feeling, and when you grind against him once more he grips you even tighter, letting out that same almost inhuman growl he had the last time you made it this far.

He pauses, huffing deeply into your ear. For a second, you’re afraid he’s going to stop himself again, and you don’t think you’ll be able to physically bear it if he does. But you’re relieved when the next words leave his lips.

“You want it?”

“Mmm, yes.” You breathe.

He grips the back of your neck even tighter, and his other hand runs up your side to tweak your sensitive nipple, sending even more sparks straight to that pit in your stomach.

“Beg.” He growls.

You don’t even hesitate.

“Please, Dean. I need you inside me. Please.”

He huffs out another heavy breath against your ear, his lips still brushing the outside.

“Good girl.”

With that, he pushes inside of you. You gasp and he grunts loudly, both of you overcome by the sudden feeling. He stills inside you for a few seconds, allowing you both to appreciate the feeling - and also giving him a chance to get a hold of himself.

Then, he begins to move – agonizingly slowly at first, and you’re moaning loudly and desperately around each long thrust. His hand on the back of your neck now tangles in your hair, gripping tightly and yanking your head back just as he begins to pick up his pace.

You shout in bliss, pressing your hands against the wall, your fingers splayed against the rough brick, just trying to grip onto something as the pleasure surges through you.

“Yeah? You like that Sweetheart?” He huffs his words out in between thrusts, “Sure fuckin’ sounds like you like it.”

“Oh – Dean! God, yes.”

Hearing his name on your lips causes him to pick up his pace once more, and he’s now fucking up into you so hard now that you feel like your feet are barely touching the ground, the force of his thrusts holding you up more than your own legs.

You cry out once more, the coil in your stomach coming dangerously close to completely snapping.

“You ready to come for me, now?” He asks.

“Fuck – y-yes.” You gasp, hardly able to even get the words out.

He tightens his grip on your hair and buries his face into your exposed neck, biting and kissing before growling out his command into your skin.

“Come.”

And you do.

The coil inside your stomach snaps and you come all over his cock, the pure ecstasy rocking your whole system as you do. He methodically slows his thrusts down inside of you until finally pulling out slowly, spinning you around once more, gripping your face tightly and forcing you to look into his fiery eyes.

“That feel good?”

You exhale a breathless chuckle, and you know that the wobbling of your legs alone is enough to give him his answer.

“That’s good,” He says, his dark eyes and thick eyelashes flicking as he studies you, “But I ain’t even close to done with you yet, you understand me? You’re gonna come for me a few more times. Until I’m satisfied.”

A few? Did he just say a few? This orgasm alone took so much out of you, and he wants a few more?

As if he can read your mind, he goes on.

“Yeah, that’s right, I said a few. You can do it. You’re gonna do it. And I think we both know you’re gonna fuckin love it, don’t we?”

You just look at him, speechless.

His green eyes are so focused, so dark, they make your heart flutter. His expression is an intoxicating combination of threatening and adoring. He’s looking through, inside you, and it makes you tremble. His face alone could be enough to send you over the edge again.

Suddenly, he’s lifting you and carrying you over to bed. He moves so swiftly that you hardly even have time to register what he’s doing before he’s got you on all fours on the bed, with your ass in the air. He kicks off his boots, jeans, and boxers and stands behind you, looking down hungrily, stroking his still rock-hard member.

You turn your head slightly to the side, and although you can’t see him fully, you can feel his gaze burning into you. You arch your back for him, wiggling your hips ever so slightly to tempt him even further.

He growls in arousal when he sees that, taking a menacing step closer to you.

“You’re askin’ for it now, you know that?” He grits.

You turn around further and smile at him mischievously, and he narrows his eyes and shakes his head at you. He bites his lips and then suddenly takes another deliberate and swift step forward, slamming himself into you and bottoming out inside of you in one smooth motion.

Your fists grip the sheets and you whine out in sheer pleasure, and Dean furrows his brows and groans as he feels you around him once again.

“Fuuuck, baby.” He huffs. “You feel so fucking good.”

He pulls back, almost pulling out completely before snapping his hips and filling you once more. He grips your hips, gradually picking up the pace, each thrust just a little more forceful than the last. You’re still gripping the sheets, your back arched, whining out in ecstasy as he continues to pound into you.

“Oh, god,” You moan, “O-Oh, god!”

“Uh-uh,” He grunts, reaching forward, grabbing a handful of your hair, and yanking your head back, “Not God, Sweetheart. Say my name.”

“Oh, fuck,” You whine loudly, “Oh, Dean!”

“Yeah, that’s right.” He growls, “Good girl.”

He picks up his pace once more, now pounding into you relentlessly, still gripping your hair tightly and arching your back even further. You scream out in bliss, and he lets out another animalistic grunt, the sound of his pleasure only increasing your own.

He grabs a handful of your ass, gripping it tightly and digging his nails into your flesh before releasing it and roughly slapping the skin.

You yelp in surprised excitement, the subtle pain blended so deliciously with the pleasure that you feel your orgasm building once more.

Your reaction turns him on even more, and he growls again as he once more slaps your ass, never faltering in his pace as he fucks into you. You hum in approval at that second slap, and he grips your hip tightly once more.

“Fuck, baby, that’s right.” He groans. “Take it. You’re takin’ it so well.”

“You’re so good.” You hum, “So good, Dean.”

Your praise turns him on further and he picks up his pace once more, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing through the small room as he does. The new pace is overwhelmingly amazing, and you feel your orgasm rising once again. He feels you tightening around him and he leans forward slightly, still maintaining his pace.

“You wanna come on my cock again, darlin’?” He questions breathlessly.

“Mmm, yes!” You cry.

“That’s my girl. Go ahead, come for me.”

You let go immediately, coming hard once more all over him, your body shaking as he continues to pound into you. He slows steadily, letting you ride it out. Then, he lets go of your hair, gripping you by the back of your neck and pulling you back against him, never once pulling out of you.

Your whole body is trembling, you’re breathing heavily, and you feel a chill run down your spine as his hot breath hits your neck.

He wraps one hand around your throat, the other trailing up and down your body, stopping to tweak and tug at your already perky nipples and sending more sparks directly to your core.

“You are so fucking good, you know that?” He huffs, and you roll your hips, silently asking him to move inside you once more.

“Oh, shit, Sweetheart,” He groans, “You got it.”

He slowly starts moving inside you again, still holding you firmly against him, his hand still wrapped around your throat. He picks up his pace quickly, and you whine out his name once more.

“Love hearing you cry my name,” He pants, “Sounds so sweet.”

His grip tightens on your throat and his other arm hooks around your own arms at the elbow, holding them firmly behind your back as he pounds ruthlessly into you. The ecstasy shoots through you, overwhelming your senses and drawing breathless moans from deep within you.

You’re not choking; he’s squeezing your throat just enough that the decrease in oxygen is heightening your other senses, and you’re completely lost in the pleasure of it all. Nothing exists except the feeling of him inside of you and his rough hands gripping you and you almost can’t believe that your body is capable of taking this much pleasure all at once.

“Dean.” You whimper between thrusts, “So. Fucking. Good.”

He growls into your ear at the sound of your whines, his grip once again tightening, his nails digging into you as he moves in and out of you ruthlessly.

“You’re gonna come for me again, Y/N,” He commands, “You hear me?”

“Oh, shit! Fuck – Dean, yes!” You shout.

He brings his lips right up to your ear, the gravel in his voice vibrating down your neck and straight to your core.

“Do it.”

You clench around him and he squeezes your neck further, heightening the sensation as yet another orgasm comes crashing down around you. You whine your way through it, the waves of euphoria radiating through your every nerve, and he gradually slows his pace.

He lets go of your throat, and continues thrusting into you a few more times before pulling out and allowing you to collapse forward onto the bed, huffing out into the sheets. Your whole body is trembling; uncontrollable tremors run up and down your spine as you just try to bring your hazy mind back to reality.

Suddenly, he flips you onto your back, his emerald eyes still staring down at you hungrily as he revels in the absolute mess he’s already made of you.

“You ready to give me one more, darlin’?”

“Fuck, Dean,” You let out a breathy whine, “You’re gonna fucking ruin me.”

The way you say that has him rolling his eyes back into his head and biting his lip once more as he grips his cock and advances toward you.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” He pants, “I ain’t stoppin’ til you’re ruined.”

He crawls onto the bed above you, teasing your sensitive center with the tip of his dick. You moan and shake at the feeling, amazed by how aroused you still are.  
His eyes rake over your body – shaky, flushed, slick with sweat – and he growls low in his throat.

“You are so god damn gorgeous.” He breathes, and you grin up at him, the arousal in your stomach now mixed with butterflies.

With that, he pushes inside you once more, and you wrap your arms and legs around him, digging your nails into his back and pulling him as far inside you as you can.

“Fuck, Y/N,” He huffs, squeezing his eyes closed as he once more feels you around him, “Fuckin’ incredible.”

He begins to move, pulling and pushing his hips slowly and deliberately at first. It feels so good that your hands drop to the sides of your head, fisting for the sheets beneath you. He takes that opportunity to grab your wrists, pinning your hands above your head with only one of his large hands.

His other hand grabs your chin and turns your face to the side, biting your collarbone and neck and eliciting a hoarse moan from you. His thrusts are still painfully slow, and even though they feel so good, you want so much more in this moment. You whine hungrily, and he immediately picks up on your need.

Still pinning your wrists above your head and still holding your chin firmly, he huffs into your ear.

“Tell me what you need, baby.”

The way he growls out that last ‘baby’ sends a surging ache straight to your core.

He turns your head to face him while you give him his answer.

“More.” You breathe, “Faster. Please, Dean, I need more of you.”

“Ugh, you look so fuckin’ beautiful when you beg.” He grunts, “Say it again.”

“Please, Dean.” You plead.

He huffs out pleased growl, looking deeply into your eyes.

“Good girl.”

Suddenly, he rapidly picks up his pace, now pounding into you harder than he has yet. You can vaguely hear the bed slamming into the wall above you, but the all-consuming pleasure now coursing through your body is all you can manage to focus on.

He furrows his brows and groans in satisfaction, and you scream out in bliss, louder than you have so far. He releases his grip on your chin to now cover your mouth completely, bringing his face directly in front of yours as he continues to thrust into you.

“Sh, sh, sh, sh. Quiet.” He demands. “Look at me. I want all your focus on me.”

Through your haze of pure ecstasy you focus your Y/E/C eyes on his piercing green.

“You’re gonna come for me one more time. When I tell you to. And I’m gonna come with you. And I am gonna fuckin’ fill you up. Understand?” He growls.

Your eyes roll back into your head; the sound of his voice, the look on his face, the feeling of him inside you all almost too much to bear.

“Hey.” He huffs, “Look at me. Right here.”

You focus on him once more, and his eyes bore into you so deeply you’re sure they’re looking into your soul.

“You and me, baby girl. Right now. You understand?”

You nod.

“Good.” He breathes.

He lets go of your mouth, and reaches down to begin rubbing circles on your sensitive clit.

“DEAN!” You scream his name, feeling yourself on the brink once more.

He locks eyes with you, nodding as he does.

“Come for me, Y/N.”

Your orgasm rocks you, and the second you clench around him, he’s coming, too. He growls and furrows his brows, letting go of your wrists and clutching onto the side of your face, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he does.

You instantly wrap your arms around him, digging your nails into the warm skin on his back and crying out his name again. He whines out your name into your neck, thrusting erratically a few more times before slowing down.

Eventually he stills, staying inside of you and panting into your neck. You do the same, huffing out loudly. He remains on top of your for a moment, his sticky body lying above yours as both of your chests heave in a desperate search to catch your breath.

He rolls off of you, collapsing onto his back next to you. A few moments go by and you still haven’t managed to catch your breath, your body still trembling from the pleasure you just experienced. A pleasure so great you’re honestly not even sure it was really real.

Finally Dean turns to look at you, and you look back at him in disbelief.

“I…” You breathe, shaking your head. You have nothing else to say. You can’t find the words because you’re not quite sure they exist.

He studies you intently for a few seconds before inhaling deeply.

“Yeah.” He sighs, looking genuinely shaken by his own pleasure as well. “Whoa.”

A few more moments go by and he rolls over suddenly, taking your face in his hand and staring into your eyes.

“Thank you.” He states.

You raise your eyebrows at him.

“I’m pretty sure I should be the one thanking you, handsome.”

He chuckles, but his expression is genuine.

“Nah, I mean it.” He insists, “You… you always know what I need. God, you just – you know me so well.”

You know what he’s talking about. You gave him control when he was so sure he didn’t have any anymore. And, yeah, maybe this was only in one aspect of his life. But it reminded him that he has more control than he thinks. And right now, that’s all you can ask for.

“Told ya you had more control than you thought.” You murmur, “And god damn, you sure know how to use it.”

He laughs again and you smile at him, then tangle your hands in his hair and pull him down into a deep kiss.

When he pulls away, he rolls onto his back once more, pulling you into him and allowing you to rest on his chest. He drags his fingertips lazily over your shoulder, both of you only just starting to catch your breath.

He shakes his head, exhaling a long breath.

"God damn, do I love you, Y/N."

You grin.

"I love you, too, Dean."

“And, uh, Sweetheart, in case it wasn’t clear… you are the best I have ever had.” He drawls.

You laugh into his warm skin.

“Oh,” You chuckle, “I could definitely say the same to you, Winchester.”

You open your eyes, feeling the warmth of Dean’s skin against your cheek. You gently lift your head, looking up at his sleeping face and smiling to yourself. You check the clock.

5:00pm.

You decide right away not to wake Dean, knowing he hasn’t slept for longer than an hour at time in days. You kiss his chest before climbing out of bed and throwing on jeans, a tank top and a flannel. You look at his peaceful face and smile once more before heading out of your room and into the kitchen.

There, you find Sam sitting at the table in silence, looking down at a mug of coffee.

Well, you managed to rein one Winchester in for the day. Maybe now it’s time to figure out what’s going on with the other one.

“Hey, there you are.” You say.

He looks up at you in surprise, clearly so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t noticed you come in. He feigns a smile.

“Hey, you.” He says, “How’s it going?”

“It’s going… better than it has been, I think.” You answer, pouring yourself some coffee as well.

He raises his eyebrows.

“That right?” He asks, “Well, that’s good.”

“Yeah,” You breathe, taking a seat across from him, “The big baby is actually sleeping well for once.”

Sam looks surprised once again.

“How’d you manage that?” He asks.

You smirk, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t really think you want the answer to that one, Ivy League.”

He furrows his brows for only a brief second before realization washes over his face and he chuckles.

“Got it. Got it. Say no more.” He laughs, looking down at his mug. “Well, I’m just glad he’s doing okay for now.”

You look at Sam, studying his face closely.

“Yeah, wish I could say the same thing about you.” You finally say.

His eyes snap up to meet yours, the surprise and insecurity all over his face. You reach a hand out and squeeze his forearm, looking at him earnestly.

“Sam…” You breathe, “Tell me what is going on with you.”

He furrows his brows, the hesitation evident in his features. You lean forward slightly, squeezing him tighter.

“Sammy, please.” You whisper.

He stares at you a few more seconds, and he looks as if he is fighting with everything he has not to tell you what he’s thinking. And yet, he somehow also looks like he desperately wants to. Finally, you see him break, letting out a long sigh as he does.

“I can’t do it.” He shakes his head, “I can’t lie to you.”

You smirk slightly.

“Good. So spill.”

He clenches his jaw and looks deep into your eyes, and it’s then that you realize that whatever this is, it’s serious. Your smile drops and you stiffen up, your heart beginning to pound a little harder.

“Y/N, do you trust me?” He asks.

“Sam…”

“Please – just… do you trust me?”

“Of course.” You murmur.

He stands, reaching his hand out for yours.

“Then, come with me. Because I need to show you something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, no more playing around. Promise. Time for shit to get serious. I'm excited, so I hope you are, too!
> 
> As always, thank you SO much for reading. I can never tell you how much I appreciate every single one of you for sharing this with me.
> 
> Love you guys!


	65. Chapter 65

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How will the Reader react to the secret Sam's been keeping?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my friends.
> 
> I'm very excited about the upcoming chapters. I say that as if I'm not excited every time I get to write a chapter for you. But seriously, I'm especially excited for the ones coming up.
> 
> As always, I really hope you enjoy!

Despite your hesitation, you agree to go with Sam. Dean’s still sound asleep, so you feel okay leaving him for what Sam promises will only be a little while. And despite how he’s acting, you trust Sam enough to follow him anywhere.

The two of you hop into your truck, and you let him drive. In only a few minutes, you’re pulling up at some old warehouse on a dead-end street. It’s practically falling apart and looks like it’s been abandoned for years.

You turn to look hesitantly at Sam as he shuts off the truck. He looks back at you, desperation in his eyes.

“Just… come on.”

He hops out of the truck and you do the same, following him through the front door. You look around as you enter the old building, your confusion only increasing with each step.

Finally, you round a corner behind Sam and head through another large doorway, and there you see Castiel. At first, you’re glad. You haven’t seen him in weeks, and you’ve missed him. But when he sees you, he looks more shocked than happy. His eyes flash from you to Sam, as if he’s silently asking Sam why the Hell he brought you here, and Sam just clenches his jaw and looks down at his feet.

You look between the two of them, confused by this interaction, but you’re quickly distracted from that when you notice a petite redhead in a long black dress. Even though you’ve never met her, you’ve heard about her. And you already know who she is. She’s standing at a table a few feet behind Cass, looking down at a book.

But not just any book.

The Book of the Damned.

Realization floods through you all at once and you snap your head in Sam’s direction.

“Sam, what the Hell?!” You demand.

The fear is all over Sam’s face as he lifts his hands slightly in defense.

“Just, let me explain. Please.”

You raise your eyebrows.

“Uh, yeah, you better.” You say.

“Wait, Sam-" Cass starts.

“No, Cass, lemme get this out.” Sam cuts him off, before sighing. “Look, I know I said I burned the book. But in that moment, knowing it might be the only thing that could help Dean… I couldn’t do it. I kept it. And then I figured, maybe Rowena could read it. Maybe we could actually find a spell that might save Dean.”

You just glare at him, still so angered by the fact that he kept this from you.

Just then, Rowena shuffles over, the shackles on her wrists clinking as she does. She looks you up and down, then grins at you.

“Now, who is this lovely wee thing?” She asks, eyebrows raised.

You glare at her, in no mood for pleasantries.

“Y/N.” You state angrily.

Her face lights up once more.

“Ah! The one the great Dean Winchester is so smitten with. I’ve heard quite the tales about you, lass.”

You raise an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah, back atcha.”

She extends a small hand toward you.

“Rowena. Pleasure to meet you, dearie.”

She’s got a kind of dangerous charm about her. She’s beautiful, almost like a doll. But there’s a mischief behind her eyes that tells you she can’t be trusted. Not that you would’ve trusted her anyway – you’ve already heard far too much about her. She seems like the kind of person who’s so charismatic that she makes you want to like her, even when you know you shouldn’t.

Hm. Like mother like son, you guess.

You look down at her hand, then back to her face, your eyebrow still raised and a distrusting expression on your face. She clearly gets the message, slowly retracting her hand and smoothing out her dress before turning to go back to looking at the Book.

You look between Sam and Castiel once more, and it’s clear to them how pissed you are.

“You’ve both been doing this for weeks? Behind my back? Behind Dean’s back?!” You demand.  
“I knew Dean would try to stop me if he knew.” Sam reasons.

“Yeah, well, I wonder why!” You exclaim. “This thing is dangerous, the Stynes are dangerous, and from what I’ve heard from you guys, SHE is dangerous!” You gesture toward Rowena, who looks unbothered by your statement. “I mean, why do you even trust her?”

“Oh, don’t worry, lovely girl. You can trust me.” Rowena hums, turning to look at you, then Sam. “We have a deal. Isn’t that right, Samuel?”

Your eyes snap to Sam’s.

“A deal?” You grit.

He clenches his jaw and glares at her before looking back at you.

“She wants me to kill Crowley.” He utters.

Your eyes go wide at that.

“What?!”

“Oh, I don’t just want you to kill him. You WILL kill him. Otherwise, good luck finding another witch who can read the book and do the spell to save poor, poor Dean.” She croons, before once again turning back to the book.

You glare at Sam, feeling overwhelmed by all the sudden news.

“Sam-" Cass starts again, but this time you cut him off.

“Okay, this is crazy. You’re not killing Crowley! You seriously think that even if you do that, you can trust her?”

“What choice do I have?” He asks, “Besides, it’s not just her that we’re relying on. Charlie’s working on cracking the codex, too, so she can make sure-"

“Charlie?!” You shout, “You dragged her back into this?!”

Sam looks guilty once more, and you suddenly glance around the room.

“Where is she?!”

It’s only then that it registers to Sam that she isn’t in the room and he furrows his brows, looking for her as well.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” Castiel states. “Sam, when you arrived, I was just about to call you. Charlie, she’s… gone.”

“Gone?” Sam asks.

Cass sighs. “It’s harder than you think to mediate between her and Rowena. It’s like…” He furrows his brows, deep in thought, “I believe the phrase is herding cats. I looked away from her for only a few minutes, and she just disappeared.”

Sam sighs deeply, running a large hand over his face.

“Yeah, yeah… she did tell me she was going stir crazy. This morning she asked if she could go hang out at a motel for a few hours to focus. But I told her no because it’s too dangerous out there.”

“So now she’s alone out there.” You state, exasperated. “Where?”

“I… I don’t know.” Cass sighs again. “She won’t answer the phone. But she hasn’t been gone long, so she can’t be far.”

You growl in frustration, once again glaring at both of them, before you lock your enraged eyes on Sam.

He looks even guiltier now, and it’s then that you notice how exhausted and stressed he looks, too. Immediately, your expression softens. You’re pissed at him for lying to you, that’s for sure. But more than that, you’re hurt. You’re hurt that he kept this from you when you might have even been able to help. But looking at him now, you can see what a burden it’s been on him.

And dammit, you have a soft spot for the giant puppy.

You sigh.

“Look, Sam, I get why you did it, okay? Of course I do. And I’m not even saying I don’t support the idea of using the Book still. I mean, I would give anything to save Dean. I really couldn’t care less what the consequences are.” You look at him earnestly, “But it’s too risky to do things THIS way. And we can’t lie to him. He deserves the truth.”

Sam’s eyes go wide at that.

“Y/N, please… don’t tell him.”

“Oh, I won’t.” You say.

He relaxes for a second, but then you speak up again.

“Because you will.”

His eyes go even wider at this, and he and Cass exchange looks.

“That’s right.” You say, grabbing your truck keys out of his hand. “You’re gonna jack a car and you’re gonna go home and tell Dean about this. You’re gonna tell him everything.”

He looks speechless, and you just turn to Castiel.

“You are gonna stay here with this one for now,” You say, nodding to Rowena. “And I am gonna go check every motel nearby until I find Charlie. Then, I’m bringing her back to the bunker so we can make sure she’s safe. Once we’ve done that, we can all revisit the idea of using the Book. Together.”

They both just look at you, and you glare at them.

“If you don’t do what I say, so help me I will kill you both myself.”

With that, you storm past them and out the door.

Rowena silently watches in admiration from the corner of her eye. Once you’re out of the room, she whirls around to grin at Sam and Castiel.

“Doesn’t play around, that one, does she? Sure knows how to put you boys in your place.”

They both just glare at her before Sam sighs once more. Cass nods at him, both of them fully aware that they’re going to do what you told them to.

“Good luck.” Cass murmurs.

“Yeah, thanks.” Sam grumbles before turning and heading out the door.

You’ve hurried around to three motels so far, and haven’t had any luck. You’ve tried calling Charlie a dozen times, but each time she just lets it ring. You’re assuming she’s so caught up in the codex that she isn’t even paying attention to her phone - or maybe you’re just telling yourself that because you’re too scared to consider the alternative.

But the relief washes over you as you pull up at the fourth motel, and finally see her small car out front. You rush up to the door it’s parked in front of, and immediately knock urgently. When she doesn’t answer right away, fear bubbles in your gut once more at the thought that the Stynes might have already gotten to her.

You push that thought down, though, as you knock again.

“Charlie, it’s me, okay? Let me in. Please.”

After a few seconds, the lock clicks and she opens the door. The relief once again floods through you, but she is clearly shocked to see you. 

“Y/N? What-"

You push both you and her quickly into the room, trying to stay out of sight.

“Yeah, Sam told me everything.” You huff, turning and locking the door behind you. “And he’s on his way to go tell Dean right now.”

Her eyes go wide at that.

“He is?! Why?” She asks.

You look at her intensely.

“Because I told him to. Because the lies stop now.”

Your assertiveness is evident in your tone, and you see the guilt suddenly all over Charlie’s face.  
“Y/N, I’m so sorry. We should’ve told you. It’s just, Sam was so desperate when he came to me, and-and I love Dean so much, I wanna do whatever I can-"

“Hey,” You reach out and grab her arm, your expression softening as you do, “Don’t apologize. It’s okay. You’re trying to save Dean. You don’t ever have to be sorry for that.”

She smiles subtly at you, and you smile back. Then, you lift the curtain slightly to glance out the window, making sure there’s no one outside.

“But we do have to go. Because if I can find you, so can the Stynes. Get your stuff together, I’m taking you back to the bunker.” You tell her.

“Wait, but I’ve been working on the codex!” She exclaims, sitting back down at her laptop and typing furiously. “I almost have it. I can feel it.” She looks up at you, her face determined.

You start to shake your head, but she speaks up once more.

“Y/N, please! I’m in the zone. I just need like, two more minutes. And if I don’t get it, then we can leave. Promise.”

She looks up at you, her face now pleading, and you sigh.

“Fine. Two minutes. Then we go.”

She grins up at you before turning back to her laptop and typing away once more.

A couple minutes go by, and suddenly she exhales sharply and leans back in the chair, her eyes wide.

“Holy Tolkien…” She breathes, her wide eyes flicking to look at you. “I did it.”

You can’t help the way your heart jumps when she says it.

“You did it? You cracked it?” You ask.

She nods, standing up. “Hells yeah I cracked it!”

You stand up, too, your own excitement growing.

“So, that means…” You breathe.

“With this baby, Rowena can read the book. She can get the spell. Y/N, we can save Dean.”

You let out a shaky exhale of disbelief, and a smile slowly spreads across your face.

“Charlie, you are a god damn wizard.”

The two of you just stare at each other for a few seconds before colliding with each other, hugging tightly, unable to contain the hopefulness you now feel.

But you should know better than to let yourself feel hopeful.

Out of nowhere, there’s a sudden pounding on the door. You pull away and look at each other, and you see the fear in Charlie’s eyes.

“I know you’re in there!” You hear the Southern drawl that you recognize instantly as Eldon Styne. “We will break this door down, little lady!”

We. He said ‘We’. Shit, that means he’s not alone.

You hurriedly look around the small room, evaluating your options. And you quickly realize there aren’t many. He pounds once more, and Charlie jumps, her wide eyes looking to you. You immediately grab her laptop, closing it and shoving it into her arms.

“Okay, listen, Charlie, get in the bathroom. Lock the door.”

She looks surprised, shaking her head immediately.

“No. No way I’m leaving you out here with these southern fried jerks!” She exclaims.

“You have to.” You say, grabbing her shoulders and looking deep into her eyes. “We gotta keep you safe. And we gotta keep THAT safe.” You glance down at the laptop in her hands. “Charlie, if there’s even a chance we can save Dean, we gotta protect it.”

“What about keeping YOU safe?!" She asks.

You smile at her, trying to calm her.

"Ah, don't worry about that. I'll be fine."

She keeps shaking her head, clearly not convinced.

"Come with me.” She begs, “We-we can hide in there together.”

There’s another loud pounding on the door, and it feels as if the whole room is shaking.

“Someone needs to hold them off. If we both go in there, they’ll bust in here and then bust in the bathroom in seconds. I know you know that.” You utter.

She furrows her brows, the panic on her face growing each second.

“I don’t care,” She shakes her head again, “I can’t go in there and lock you out here. I can’t.”

You study her for a few long seconds before sighing, realizing you don’t have time for a conversation that’s going in circles.

“Okay. Alright.” You say, nodding toward the bathroom. “Let’s go.”

She leads the way, walking into the bathroom ahead of you. And as soon as she’s in, you grab the handle, slamming the door shut behind her. You grab the chair from the desk, shoving it up under the handle and trapping her inside.

She’s immediately jiggling the handle frantically, shouting at you as she does.

“Y/N! No! What the heck are you doing?!”

“Charlie, I just got you as a friend. I’m not losing you already.” You answer.

“No! Y/N, no!” She cries.

“I need you to listen to me now, okay?” You speak to her calmly through the door. “Lock the door and call the boys. Tell them where we are and to get here as soon as possible. I’ll hold these jackasses off for as long as I can. I need you look for a window or a vent or anything you might be able crawl into or sneak out of.”

“Y/N, please…” She murmurs.

“Come on, I gotta protect the Queen.” You say, laughing subtly. “Don’t even worry about me. I’ll be fine. These guys think they're tougher than they are. You lock that door and call the boys right now and do whatever you can to save yourself, understand?”

She doesn’t answer right away.

“Tell me you understand.” You repeat.

There’s another loud pounding on the door, and you know they’ll be through any second.

“Charlie, come on.” You urge.

She hesitates a few seconds longer before finally answering.

“I understand.”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath and nodding.

“Good.” You say calmly, smiling slightly, “Atta girl.”

With that, you push yourself away from the bathroom door and into the middle of the room. The pounding on the door is incessant now, the wood beginning to splinter.

You draw your weapons and look at the door with determination, your chest heaving and your adrenaline pumping – ready for whatever fight is about to come.

Dean’s pissed.

Beyond pissed.

He woke up from a damn good nap after some damn incredible sex, expecting to see your gorgeous face smilin’ back at him when he opened his eyes.

But that’s not what he got.

Nope. Instead, he walked into the library just in time to be greeted by his brother. His brother who proceeded to drop a full on bomb of deceit on him.

Sam tells him he never burned the Book, he’s been lying to him AND to you, he got Cass to lie too, and he’s been working with a witch to try to read the Book.

And not just any witch. One of the most powerful and evil witches they know.

And worse than all of that, he tells Dean that he dragged Charlie back into this again.

Dean’s so mad, it takes all he has not to grab a lamp from the table and whip it across the room. He knows that most of that anger is the Mark, but right now he doesn’t even care. Now he’s standing here, across from his brother in the library, trying to come to terms with everything Sam just said.

He looks around suddenly, his enraged green eyes scanning the room.

“Where is Y/N?” He demands.

Sam swallows hard, which only worries Dean more.

“Sam, where the Hell is she?” He growls.

“Charlie snuck off to some motel to work on the codex.” Sam answers, trying to keep his own voice calm for Dean. “Y/N just went to get her and bring her back here.”

Dean’s eyes go wide, and he takes a menacing step toward his brother.

“With the possibility that the STYNES are out there lookin’ for Charlie right now?!” He snarls.

“Dean, it’s okay!” Sam reasons. “Y/N will bring Charlie back here and-and we’ll figure it out from there!”

Dean clenches his jaw and glares at Sam, his enraged stare boring holes into his brother.

“If somethin’ happens to either one of those girls, Sammy, so help me-"

Suddenly, Sam’s phone rings. And somehow, they both know that it’s not for anything good. Sam looks at Dean hesitantly before answering.

“Put it on speaker.” Dean demands. “Now.”

Sam doesn’t protest. He just answers the phone, holding it between him and his brother as he puts it on speaker.

“Charlie?” He asks.

“Sam!”

The sound of her voice alone has both of their stomach’s immediately dropping.

“Charlie, what’s going on?” Sam questions cautiously.

“Sam… they’re here. The Stynes are here.”

Sam and Dean exchange panicked looks, the fear now filling both of them.

“Where?! Where are you?” Sam asks frantically.

“A motel!” She answers in a panic. “T-T-The Blackbird! Sam, I don’t have much time to talk, my phone is gonna die…”

“Okay, hey, it’s okay.” Sam desperately tries to calm her despite the panic he feels, “I know where that is, it’s not far-"

Dean grabs the phone from Sam’s hand, already barreling to the stairs.

“Charlie…” Dean breathes, “Where is Y/N?”

“She-she locked me in the bathroom. She told me to call you two. She’s… she’s out there. She said she’s gonna fight them off for as long as she can. They’re gonna bust in the room any second, and - Dean… I’m sorry, she didn’t give me a choice.”

Dean squeezes his eyes closed.

“No…” He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes, now focusing on calming Charlie, “No, that’s okay, kiddo. That’s alright, it’s not your fault. She’s stubborn like that.” He lets out a strained laugh, trying to mask his fear.

Dean and Sam get into the Impala and Dean starts it, then talks to Charlie once more.

“Charlie, you listen to me. We are coming right now. But if-"

He stops abruptly, closing his eyes again as his jaw clenches and his lip quivers. He opens his eyes, trying to hold himself together as he says the next words.

“If Y/N can’t hold ‘em off, and they get past her, you give them whatever they want, you understand me?”

“Dean-"

There’s a loud crash on the other end, and both boys can hear it.

“They’re inside.” Charlie whisper shakily.

Sam and Dean exchange panicked looks once more before Dean backs quickly out of the garage, shoving the phone into Sam’s hands as he does.

“It’s okay, Charlie,” Sam assures, “We’re on our way. Just hold-"

Suddenly, the line goes dead, and they’re both just silently hoping that it’s only because Charlie’s phone died.

They exchange looks once more, and Dean’s worried expression is also laced with rage. Neither of them say anything, Dean just presses the gas pedal to the floor as the Impala roars down the road.

He stares ahead, trying desperately to keep control. The idea of anything happening to Charlie makes him sick. They lose everyone that they love, and if something happens to that kid while she’s trying to clean up his mess, he won’t be able to live with himself.

And you.

God, you.

The thought of you getting hurt – or worse – again? It’s too much to fucking bear.

He finally felt better today, because of you. He knows the only reason he’s still himself at all, is because of you. You are the glue that’s been holding him together and if anything happens to you, he knows he will come undone completely.

And he also knows… there will be no stopping the Mark after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and for sticking with me. Love you guys!


	66. Chapter 66

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will the Reader be able to fight off the Stynes? And will the boys make it to her in time to help?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> I know everyone's terrified for this chapter. So let's get into it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

You draw your weapons and look at the door with determination, your chest heaving and your adrenaline pumping – ready for whatever fight is about to come.

In that moment, the Stynes burst through the door, breaking it down as they stroll into the room. It’s Eldon and some other one you’ve never seen. He looks younger than Eldon, but no less dangerous.

Eldon glances slowly around the room, grinning wide when his eyes land on you.

“Well, hello there, beautiful.” He croons. “We meet again. I was only expectin’ to find that cute little nerdy one. Not you. But what a… pleasant surprise.”

“Yeah, last time I saw you I was filling you full of lead, right?” You spit back with a smirk.

He narrows his eyes slightly at you, but his grin only widens.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that.” He says, taking a step further into the room, “I’m all fixed up now.”

“Hm,” You quip, “Pity.”

“Overjoyed as I am to see you, we aren’t here for you.” He states, glancing around the room once more. “Where’s the small one?”

“Don’t have a clue.” You raise your eyebrows and shrug at him. “Can’t help you.”

They both look past you, their eyes landing on the bathroom door with the chair still shoved underneath its handle. Eldon looks from the door to you, smiling once more.

“Is that right?” He asks incredulously.

Your eyes darken as you grip your gun a little tighter.

“Now, don’t tell me you’re out here sacrificing yourself just to keep us from gettin’ to the little miss in there.” He says, his voice patronizing, as he and his companion share smirks.

“Sacrificing myself?” You ask. “Oh, no. I just haven’t kicked anyone’s ass in a while and figured I could use the exercise.”

He takes another step toward you, his eyes once again scanning up and down your body.

“Come on, darlin’. It’ll be a pity for me to have to rip such a pretty thing apart. Why don’t you just step aside, let me get what I came for?”

You scoff, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Why don’t you just eat me?” You whisper.

He chuckles, glancing at his companion once more.

“Well, I tried.” He drawls.

They grin at each other, and then they’re rushing at you in an instant.

You lift your gun and fire, hitting Eldon in the chest once before he reaches you. He grabs your wrist with one and hand punches you in the cheek with the other, stunning you for a second. He hits you once more and twists your wrist, wrenching the gun from your hand and making it drop to the floor.  
The other one comes up behind you, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking your head back. As he does, you elbow him in the stomach and he releases you with an “Oof”. As soon as that one lets go, you knee Eldon in the gut, then punch him in the nose hard enough that he lets go of you, too.

You stumble out of their grip and away from them, but you still stand between them and the bathroom door. You grab your blade from your back pocket, holding it up as you glare at the two of them. They exchange impressed glances, then look back you.

“Well,” Eldon says as he wipes away the blood now dripping from his nose, “Aren’t you somethin’? Impressive.”

“Really?” You retort. “Cause I’d say you guys are just mediocre at best.”

He laughs again before lunging at you once more.

You continue this way for a few minutes, managing to block most of their blows and land a few of your own, never once letting them get any closer to bathroom. They both come at you at the same time, and you duck the younger one, coming up just in time to bury your knife in Eldon’s chest. He groans in pain, stumbling backward and looking down at it. In that same second, the younger one backhands you, hard, sending you flying to the ground. He stalks toward you, and that’s when you notice your gun on the ground next to you. You grab it and aim it at him, firing at him until he finally falls, which takes the remainder of the clip to achieve.

You stand quickly, just as Eldon is yanking your knife out of his chest. He looks down at his now dead relative, surprise in his eyes. When he looks back at you, you can’t help but smirk in satisfaction. He grips the knife tightly, and it’s then that you remember your gun is empty. He leaps at you, knife first, and you manage to dodge it, hitting him in the face with the butt of your gun. You punch him in the stomach immediately after, disorienting him enough for you to knock the blade from his hand and across the room.

But as soon as you do, he hits you in the mouth. You don’t react, you’re not even fazed by it, and you just swing at him again, your fist colliding hard with his jaw. You’re silently impressed with yourself, thinking for a moment that you may actually stand a chance.

And then he punches you in the side.

Right where your clawed-up skin is still being held together by stitches.

The hit shocks your system, sending a blinding pain through you and knocking the air out of you. As hard as you try to fight it, you gasp in pain, stumbling backward and trying to catch your breath. Eldon’s eyes immediately light up as they fixate on your midsection, realizing right away that it’s a weak spot. You try to stand up straight, try not to let the pain show at all on your face. But you know it’s too late.

He grins wide before swinging again, and even though you block his arm, you aren’t able to block his foot when he brings it up and kicks you as hard as he can, right in the same spot. This sends you flying backward and crashing into the wall right next to the bathroom door.

Your head collides hard with the wall, and the pain now radiating through your side and your skull is excruciating. You try desperately to get up, but he’s above you in seconds, stomping down on your side once more. You choke down a scream, groaning as you grip your side, and it’s then that you feel the blood beginning to seep through your shirt.

He kneels down next to you, roughly yanking your hand away from your side and lifting your shirt so that he can get a better look. As soon as he does, his eyes light up once more.

“Oh, now, that looks like it hurts.” He hums in glee.

He grips you tightly, pressing his thumb into your wound, and you can feel and hear the stitches popping as he does. You scream out in agony, no longer able to fight the overwhelming pain now coursing through your body.

He smiles wider, his eyes sparkling as he presses even harder. You scream again, feeling nauseous and lightheaded as you feel the blood now spilling out of you and onto the carpet beneath you.

He leans closer to you, grabbing you by the hair and making you look at him.

“Now, I’m just gonna go right in there and pay your clever little friend a visit. Get back what’s rightfully mine.” He states confidently.

“Don’t.” You growl.

He chuckles as he wraps both hands around your throat and begins squeezing.

“No.” You cough, your hands flying up to tug at his.

“Sh, sh, sh, it’s alright now. Like I said, you are very impressive. Real tough competition. Well Hell, if you hadn’t had that handicap, you might even have won.” He laughs wickedly.

You’re fighting as hard as you can, but the lack of oxygen and the unbearable pain and the blood you still feel yourself losing – it’s all too much. And you feel darkness suddenly creeping in.

No.

No, no, no.

You have to fight. To save Charlie and to get back to your boys.

You gasp and squirm, clawing at his hands so hard you make him bleed.

But he just smiles wider, looking down at you in admiration and tightening his grip.

“A real fighter.” He drawls, leaning even closer. “Now, don’t worry. You fought real hard for her. I’ll make sure she knows that before I tear her apart.”

His words terrify you, but there’s nothing you can do about it.

The world blurs, and you start to feel cold.

And as hard as you try to fight it, your eyes fall closed and darkness envelops you.

Sam and Dean pull up to the motel, both of them leaping out of Baby before the engine is all the way off. It’s eerily quiet, and they see Charlie’s car and your truck parked in front of a room.

They rush up to the door with their stomachs in knots, and when they see the way it’s busted open, the knots only tighten.

They hold their breath as they barrel into the room, looking around frantically. The first thing they notice is the dead Styne on the floor, and for a second they have hope. But that begins to fade as they walk in further, seeing the blood everywhere and your weapons scattered along the floor.

There’s a lump in Dean’s dry throat when he sees your gun on the floor. Advancing in further, they find a massive pool of blood on the carpet just outside the bathroom door.

But there’s no body next to it.

They see the bathroom door, busted open the same way the front door had been. They both swallow hard and tense up, exchanging terrified glances as they begin to step through the doorway. Their hearts are in their throats as the terror bubbles in their chests.

They finally step into the room, completely overwhelmed by the fear of what they may be about to see.

But… they don’t see anything.

Or anyone.

It’s completely empty.

They both furrow their brows and look at each other, relieved but confused, and then they hear a quiet voice come from behind them.

“Hey, bitches.”

They spin around to see Charlie in the middle of the motel room. She’s tightly clutching her laptop, looking shaken and terrified, but relieved to see them.

Sam exhales a broken sigh of relief and Dean lunges forward, wrapping his arms around he and pulling her tightly into his chest.

That relief only lasts for a second, though, when he once again looks around the room hurriedly.  
He pulls away from Charlie and looks down at her, his desperate eyes asking the question without him even having to open his mouth.

“She… she told me to look for a vent or something, in the bathroom.” Charlie’s says shakily. “And I actually found one. O-On the ceiling. I jumped on the sink and crawled in and just hid in the ceiling for a while. I-I didn’t know what else to do. Finally, I dropped down into the room next door.” She raises her eyebrows, “And THAT was pretty awkward, but… but then I came in here and found you two.”

She swallows hard, looking sadly up into Dean’s worried eyes.

“I… I don’t know where she is… but-"

She tenses up, her jaw quivering as she looks between the two of them.

“I could hear screaming. I mean, I could hear… her screaming.”

Dean closes his eyes, his lips quivering as he inhales deeply through his nose.

His thoughts race, his heart aching immediately. 

You saved Charlie.

She’s standing in front of him right now because of you. He knows that. She is alive because of you, and you alone.

You… who is so fuckin’ badass, so brave, so god damn selfless that you would barrel headfirst into a losing fight just to protect the people you love.

And he can’t even wrap his head around how much he loves you for that.

Now, he doesn’t know where you are, or what happened to you. But he knows it wasn’t good. And it’s terrifying the ever-loving shit out of him.

“Dean.” Sam croaks.

Dean opens his eyes and looks at his brother, who is now standing over the large pool of blood outside the bathroom door, looking down at it apprehensively before quietly speaking up again.

“That means that this is probably-"

“It’s her blood.” Dean rasps. “I know it is.”

Sam swallows hard, taking a deep breath.

“Well, maybe… maybe it’s a good thing she isn’t here, then.” Sam says, desperation lacing his tone. “Maybe that means she’s still-"

Dean shoots Sam such a fiery glare that Sam stops talking immediately.

And just then, Dean’s phone rings.

He pulls it out of his pocket and his heart jumps when he sees your name.

He sees Sam and Charlie looking on in anxious anticipation, so he puts it on speaker when he answers it.

“Sweetheart?”

Then, he hears Eldon’s chuckle on the other end.

“Sweetheart? Aw, now isn’t that cute.”

“Eldon.” Dean growls. “Where is she?”

“Where’s who?” He taunts. “Oh you mean your pretty little lady? Well,” he chuckles, “Dean, she’s dead.”

Charlie gasps quietly and Sam reaches for her, pulling her into his chest and squeezing her tight.

Dean closes his eyes and shakes his head subtly, trying desperately to keep himself together.

“You’re lying.” He whispers.

Eldon laughs again.

“Now, why would I lie about that? If I had her prisoner, you don’t think I’d be bragging about that? Tellin’ you about all the awful things I’m gonna do to her?”

Dean swallows hard, breathing harshly through his nose.

“Besides,” Eldon goes on cockily, “You know her. Well, knew her. Do you really think she would’ve let me take her alive?”

Dean’s breath hitches in his throat and he squeezes his eyes closed even tighter, gripping the phone so tightly that his fingers are turning white.

“Then why isn’t she here?” He grits. “If she’s dead, you don’t need her.”

“Well, now, Dean, I’d think you of all people would know that your ‘Sweetheart’ is a rare specimen. Strong, brave, beautiful. You think I’d leave all those top-notch spare parts behind?”

Dean’s eyes snap open suddenly, and he and Sam look at each other in horror.

“Nah, see, I’m takin’ her home. My daddy will be real proud that I managed to find such a gold mine of grade A material . But don’t worry, Dean,” He lowers his voice to whisper, “I won’t let a single part of her go to waste.”

And with that, the line goes dead.

Sam and Charlie look at Dean, both of them devastated and horrified and neither of them having a clue what to say.

Dean just stands there, still gripping the phone tightly, his whole body trembling and his eyes glazed over.

“No, it can’t be true.” Charlie blurts in desperation, shaking her head, tears in her eyes. “She isn’t dead, it’s not true.”

Dean’s chest begins to heave, and Sam can see the tremble of his body.

Sam blinks back his own tears and clears his throat before looking down at Charlie.

“Uh, Charlie, let’s get you to the bunker, okay? Come on, let’s get you in the car.”

Charlie looks hesitantly at Dean before looking tearfully up at Sam and nodding her head. Sam nods back, looking cautiously at Dean as he ushers Charlie out of the room, knowing Dean could explode at any second.

When they’re out of the room, Dean looks down at the pool of blood once more. He inhales shakily, his jaw quivering and tears pooling in his eyes.

“She’s right.” He croaks, “You can’t be dead. You're a fighter. You're too damn stubborn. And you can’t leave me here, like this. Without you, I’m a… I’m a god damn mess. Y/N, without you, I can’t-"

He squeezes his eyes closed, letting the tears drop down his cheeks. He stays that way for a moment, letting his emotions begin to consume him.

And when he opens his eyes, they’re dark. They’re infuriated. They’re maddened.

He shoves his phone into his pocket and exhales through his nose, his incensed eyes bouncing all over the room, imagining what may have happened to you here while he wasn’t here to protect you. He’s shaking, his adrenaline surging as he feels the fit of rage the Mark wants to release.

And right now, he doesn’t even want to fight it.

He roars out a growl as he grabs the chair next to him and flings it across the room. As soon as he lets that go, he’s gripping the bottom of the bed, snarling out once more as he lifts his arms and sends it flying into the air. He turns and punches the wall, his fist flying through and busting the drywall. He grabs a lamp and smashes it against the wall with another savage roar.

He continues this way, tearing the room apart bit by bit until it’s in shambles around him.

He stops, standing up straight, his chest heaving and his nostrils flaring as realization sets in.

This is it.

He’s snapped. He can feel it.

There’s no goin’ back now.

And he knows exactly what he needs to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I get you?!
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, I hope you're still with me!


	67. Chapter 67

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is the Reader really dead? And what will happen now that Dean has let the Mark take over completely?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> This is a longer chapter, I hope everyone's okay with that. ;-)
> 
> Happy Friday and Happy Fall, love you guys!

Sam comes back into the motel room hesitantly, and he freezes in his tracks as he looks at the demolished room. He swallows hard, walking in a little further, eyeing his brother cautiously as he does.

“Dean…” He breathes quietly, watching as his brother’s chest heaves and his fists clench and unclench at his sides.

After a few long seconds, Dean’s maddened eyes finally focus on Sam, and he takes a few long strides over to his brother.

“Let’s go.” He growls. “You’re drivin’ Charlie back to the bunker in her car, and I’m followin’ you to make sure you actually do it. Then, I’m leavin’.”

“Leaving?” Sam asks.

“I’m goin’ after those sons of bitches. And I’m gonna make ‘em pay. Every last one.”

“Is this you talking?” Sam asks. “Or the Mark?”

Dean looks at his brother coldly.

“Does it matter?”

“Dean…” Sam warns.

“Don’t.” Dean spits, grimacing at Sam. “Don’t even try to tell me not to do it. Or that it won’t be good for me. After what you’ve done-" He grits his teeth, now growling at his brother, “After what you’ve CAUSED… don’t you dare try to tell me single a god damn thing.”

Sam’s heart sinks, and it’s evident all over his guilt-ridden face.

“You will end this crap with the book. Shut it down. Before you do any more damage.” Dean’s eyes bore into Sam resentfully. “Not another fuckin’ word.”

The way Dean looks at Sam both terrifies him and breaks his heart at the same time. He doesn’t even look like his brother, not anymore. Whatever small glint of light was left behind Dean’s eyes before, it’s gone now. Maybe it was extinguished by the thought of losing you, or by the Mark finally taking control. Sam thinks it was probably a combination of both. And he knows that’s his fault.

So what more can he possibly say?

He swallows hard and nods at his brother before following him out of the room.

When they all arrive back at the bunker, it’s eerily silent. It’s as if the lack of your presence has muted every hallway and dimmed every light.

Dean barrels straight to his room, packing every last weapon and managing to avoid looking at the garments of your clothing you’d left in there the last time you slept there. He stomps back out and down the hall, his eyes focused and his breathing controlled. He walks past Sam and Charlie, looking at Sam intensely one more time before heading up the stairs and slamming the door closed behind him.

Sam and Charlie just look at each other gloomily. Sam doesn’t know what to say, but right now his guilt is telling him that he needs to do what his brother told him to. It’s the least he can do, he thinks, after what happened because of him.

He decides to bring Charlie to the warehouse with him to tell Cass everything, because honestly he’s still too traumatized from almost losing her before that he can’t bear to leave her alone, even at the bunker.

They’re both silent still on the drive there, neither one of them able to find the words to comfort each other yet.

They walk into the warehouse, slowly rounding the corner to the large main room. As soon as they do, relief washes over Castiel’s face when he sees Charlie intact and he rushes up to them.

“Charlie, you shouldn’t have left like that. We were all worried. I am so glad Y/N was able to find you in time-"

He sees their expressions, especially when he mentions your name, and his face immediately drops.

“What is it?” He asks.

Charlie looks as though she’s about to cry, suddenly lunging forward and wrapping her arms around Cass, burying her face in chest.

Cass looks down at her, immediately confused, and then he looks up at Sam urgently.

Sam furrows his brows and looks down at his feet before finally look backing up at Cass.

“It’s Y/N.” Sam utters quietly.

Cass’ eyes widen, and Sam goes on.

“She, uh-" He clears his throat to keep his voice from breaking, “She saved Charlie. But, uh… we just – we couldn’t get there in time, Cass. The Stynes – Eldon - he says t-that… that he killed her.” He finally manages to croak out.

Cass’ face drops further, a look of denial immediately showing on his features.

“He SAYS he did?” Cass questions.

Sam closes his eyes and clenches his jaw, hardly able to grit out what happened.

“Her body, it was… gone. So we didn’t see. We don’t know. Not for sure.”

Cass shakes his head.

“I don’t understand… if she’s truly dead, then why would Eldon feel the need to take her?”

Sam just looks at Cass, his distraught eyes telling Cass the answer.

And as Cass remembers who the Stynes are - and what they do - his look of confusion turns to one of panic and disgust.

“No…” He murmurs, shaking his head again.

Sam looks away from him again, and they stay there, in aching silence for a few moments. Rowena watches silently from the corner of her eye, looking surprisingly disappointed herself.

Cass’ voice is small when he finally speaks up again.

“We have to go after Eldon. If there is even a chance she is still alive, Sam… the things that they will do to her…”

Sam’s stomach sinks at that thought – the same one that hasn’t left his mind once since he heard Eldon on the phone - but he just shakes his head.

“Dean’s already going after him. After all of them.” Sam murmurs.

“Alone?!” Cass’ deep voice demands.

Sam looks at Cass, the sadness and guilt all over his face.

“He’s snapped, Cass. After finding out I lied, and then Y/N - seeing her blood like that… it was the last straw. I looked into his eyes and he didn’t even look like Dean anymore. Not really. There was no talking him out of it and no going with him. The way he looked at me-" He furrows his brows and looks down briefly, not even wanting to say the next words, but knowing Cass needs to hear it. He looks at Cass once more.

“The way he looked at me, Cass… he looked like he wanted to kill me himself.”

The words hit Cass hard. The thought of having lost not only you, but also Dean, is almost too much to bear.

“So what do we do?” He asks.

“We shut it down.” Sam announces, regret in his voice. “All of it.”

“Sam…” Cass looks surprised once more, “Are you sure?”

Sam is exhausted. He’s crushed. He blames himself for all of this. And it was all for one goal that he wasn’t even able to achieve. He couldn’t save his brother. And he couldn’t save you. It was all for nothing, and he hates himself for that. As badly as he wants to go on, to keep himself from giving up, he just isn’t sure if he can find the will right now.

That is, until Charlie speaks up.

She finally pulls herself away from Cass with a sniffle, looking between both of them.

“No.” She states loudly, and they look at her in confusion.

“We aren’t giving up.” She says, shaking her head. “We can’t.”

She slips her backpack off of her shoulders, putting it on the table next to her and pulling her laptop out of it. She hugs the laptop close to her as she looks at them intently.

“Y/N didn’t just protect me. She protected this.” She glances down at it, then looks back up at them.  
Sam and Cass exchange looks before looking back at Charlie in anticipation.

“She did it for him. For Dean. She did it to save him.” Charlie says emotionally, her determined eyes looking intently at the both of them.

“Because I cracked the codex.”

Dean planned to use the GPS from your cell phone – which he knew Eldon had – to find the Stynes’ home base. But Eldon must have smashed it after he called Dean, because now he can’t get a location.

Doesn’t matter.

He knows where the scum come from. They’re all too happy to boast about it, with their bullshit accents and their bullshit family crest.

So, he barrels toward Shreveport in a silent rage. His calloused hands grip the wheel tight, his foot to the floor on the gas pedal. His dead eyes stare at the road ahead, laser focused on the plans he has.

He doesn’t turn on the radio.

What he feels right now, is the strangest sense of emptiness he’s ever felt. The pure anger is all-consuming. But it’s like the anger isn’t his anymore, not really. His mind isn’t even his anymore. It belongs to the Mark. He belongs to the Mark. He’s being driven by something he cannot control. And worse than that, he doesn’t want to control it. Not anymore.

Last time he lost you, the Mark hadn’t taken over yet. So the anguish – the utter despair – was all he could feel then. And he felt it all so deeply.

But this time, the Mark HAS taken over. So all that anguish, all that despair – it’s being consumed, being manipulated by the Mark. His sadness – which he knows he does feel, somewhere – is being twisted and rearranged and distorted back into more rage, over and over again until the rage is all that exists. It’s no longer an emotion. He feels void of those. It’s his state of being.

Last time, he was so broken that his feelings weighed him down completely.

This time, he’s so broken that he no longer has any feelings at all.

Sure, somewhere in the recesses of his mind there’s hope that maybe you aren’t dead after all. Sure, somewhere there’s fear at the idea of your perfect body being taken apart, piece by piece by those monsters. And sure, somewhere there’s the sadness at the thought of never seeing your smile again.

He knows all those feelings EXIST somewhere inside of him.

But he can’t feel them.

Not anymore.

So, he continues toward his destination and toward his mission. And the closer he gets, the more the adrenaline builds. He finally pulls into the town of Shreveport, preparing himself to do whatever it takes to zero in on the Styne’s home, when a set of flashing lights appear behind him.

He glances in the rear-view mirror to look at the police car behind him.

He almost laughs to himself as he reaches into the glove compartment.

They picked the wrong day. And the wrong car.

And the wrong guy.

Sam’s all but depleted energy is renewed with Charlie’s four words.

‘I cracked the codex’.

They flow through him, filling his lungs with air and his heart with hope. Maybe it wasn’t all for nothing. If you were willing to die for it, then it couldn’t have been.

It just couldn’t.

He knows that continuing with the Book means going against Dean’s wishes. Again. But he’s doing it FOR his brother. Dean is off the deep end. He’s drowning; and Sam is going to do whatever it takes to throw him a life preserver.

Dean can be mad, that’s okay. Hell, he can hate Sam after this. That’ll be okay, too. Because Sam would rather have Dean here - alive, and free of the Mark, and hating him - than not have Dean at all.

So Sam will do what he has to for his brother. He will always do what he has to for his brother.  
Rowena is also thrilled that Charlie’s cracked the codex. A little too thrilled for Sam’s comfort, but he can’t worry about that right now. She immediately gets to work at using the codex to translate the book, with both Cass and Charlie supervising her closely as she does.

Sam hangs in the doorway of the large warehouse room, pacing around and calling Dean over and over. He has no intentions of telling Dean that he’s still going through with translating the Book, obviously. But he desperately wants to know if Dean’s okay.

Deep down, he’s not worried that Dean’s dead. With the way he looked, Sam thinks Dean could take on a whole army right now and still come out on top. No, Sam’s more worried about the damage Dean is about to do. Both to the world and to himself. And he just wants to find out how far he’s already gone.

But of course, Dean doesn’t answer.

After countless calls and pacing around for what feels like forever, Sam finally decides he needs to go after him. He’s hesitant to leave, but he trusts Cass and Charlie to watch Rowena, and he trusts Cass to keep Charlie safe.

“I can’t reach Dean. I’m going after him.” Sam announces, walking toward the three of them.

Cass and Charlie nod in understanding, but Rowena looks expectantly up from the Book, raising her eyebrows at him.

“Ah, ah, ah. I don’t think so, Samuel.” She scolds. “Did you forget our deal? You have to kill my son before I’ll finish translating this.”

In all the chaos, Sam HAD forgotten. He clenches and unclenches his jaw, glaring at Rowena in exasperation.

“I don’t have time for that.” He grits, trying to keep his tone even.

“Well, make time.” She croons. “Poor Dean is off the deep end now, Samuel! You might want to get done before it’s too late for him.”

Sam’s rage bubbles at Rowena’s mock concern for his brother.

“We don’t need you.” He spits. “Charlie cracked the codex, she can read the book.”

Rowena chuckles to herself.

“The little minx to my left may be very skilled in the ways of code-cracking. But she is not skilled in the ways of witchcraft.” She glances at Charlie briefly. “Uh, no offense, dear.”

Her grin widens as she looks back at Sam.

“You’ve got no one to perform this spell the way I can. Handling the ingredients, getting the measurements just right – unless, of course, any of you have spent years of your life studying with the greats, mastering the intricacies of high witchcraft?”

She glances around at Cass, Charlie, then back to Sam.

Sam’s enraged now, his muscle tensing as his large chest begins to heave. But looking at Charlie and Cass, and the expressions on their faces, he knows Rowena’s right. She’s got him. And there’s nothing he can do about it.

“Fine.” He growls dejectedly, glaring at her. “What do I do?”

She smiles again and sits down at the large table in front of her, assessing its contents.

“Give me a few moments, dear boy.” Her eyes sparkle as she grins up at him, “I’ll have just the thing.”

You wake up slowly.

Your lashes flutter and your brows furrow and it takes longer than you’re proud to admit just to finally open your eyes.

When you do, the whiteness of the room combined with the brightness of the lights above you nearly blinds you.

There are lights above you.

You’re facing the ceiling. On your back. As you begin to regain control of the rest of your body, you try to adjust your positioning, and it’s then that you feel the tight leather around your wrists, holding you in place on the hard metal table you’re just now realizing is beneath you.

The first thing that sets in is the confusion.

Where the hell are you? How are you alive? You were certain you felt Eldon squeezing the life out of you back at the motel.

The second thing that sets in is the concern, and it takes your breath away when it hits you.

Charlie.

You couldn’t hold Eldon off. Which means he might have gotten to her. You blink away the remaining disorientation and slowly look around, and you don’t see her.

Maybe she got away.

Or maybe he ripped her apart, just like he said he would, and left her for the Winchesters to find. The thought alone makes you sick.

The third thing that sets in is the pain, all at once.

The pounding in your head is unbearable, and even that is nothing compared to what you feel in your side. You glance down as much as you can, and notice you’ve been stripped of your shirt, now wearing only your bra and jeans.

That both alarms and confuses you for a brief second, but then you immediately realize why.

Your stitches, the ones Eldon had ripped apart during your fight, have been fixed. With surgical precision.

And that’s when the rest of the realization sets in. You look around the room once more, now understanding your surroundings. It’s an old-fashioned surgery room, complete with sickly white décor and creepy looking metal tools on metal trays.

Eldon didn’t kill you. He brought you home. You try to ignore the unsettling feeling that creates in the pit of your stomach, and that’s made easier but the sudden footsteps you hear entering the room.

“Well, well, good evenin’, gorgeous.” Eldon hums as he stands next to the table you’re strapped to. “How are we feelin’ today?”

You glare up at him and the white-haired older man next to him. You notice that behind them stand two more large men, who must be guards.

“Oh, you know,” You retort, tugging at your restraints and wincing at the pain that creates in your side, “Never better.”

They both eye your wound, and the feeling of their eyes on your body suddenly disgusts you.

“Good thing we are such gifted surgeons.” The older one speaks up, his eyes now meeting yours. “That wound in your tummy was mighty damaged when you got here.”

“Yeah, well, if you’re waiting for a ‘thank you’, you’re gonna be here awhile.” You spit.

He chuckles.

“Well, it is certainly a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. Names Monroe. Monroe Styne.”

“Ah,” You say, raising your eyebrows, “Well if it isn’t the father of all southern-fried assholes. I am in the presence of greatness. It truly takes an unprecedented level of douchery to lead a family that sucks THIS bad.”

You glare up at him, a sardonic smirk on your lips. He chuckles, sounding impressed and surprised, and glances at Eldon.

“You were right.” He laughs. “Quite the spitfire.”

You scoff and roll your eyes before asking them one of the many questions now swirling around your brain.

“Why am I here? Why even bother fixing me up?”

“Well,” Monroe begins, “Eldon here says you’re strong. A real fighter. And we’ve heard stories about you. The girl who is quite hard to kill. The girl who does not break easy. So we thought, why not test that theory? But in order to really do that, and really take our time with it, you’d have to be fully intact when we start.”

Your stomach churns and your heart beats a little faster hearing that. But right now you can’t bring yourself worry about your own well-being, even if you should.

“What happened to Charlie?” You demand suddenly.

Eldon’s cocky grin drops inadvertently, and Monroe’s look of disappointment in his son tell you everything you need to know.

A grin spreads across your face and you look between the two of them, overwhelming relief flooding through you.

“You didn’t get her.” You breathe. “She got away.”

Eldon tenses up, the frustration evident on his face.

You can’t help but laugh, both to spite Eldon and because you’re so relieved you can’t contain it.

“Oh, that must suck for you, huh?” You chuckle tauntingly. “You had one mission and you just couldn’t get it done. You must be so disappointed in him, huh, Pops?”

Monroe looks down at you condescendingly.

“Mighty bold of you to run your mouth like that, considering the position you’re in right now, honey.”

“Oh,” You scoff, “I run my mouth in any and all positions, pal. You don’t scare me.”

And right now, it’s true. Sure, you’re in a bit of a predicament. But you don’t care. Charlie is safe. And that also means the codex is safe. Which means Dean has a chance. He could still be saved. And that thought alone is enough to fill you with excitement, no matter what position you’re in.

“It doesn’t matter.” Eldon finally spits. “Because I will get her. I’ll get ‘em all.”

You glare at him.

“You don’t stand a chance against the Winchesters.” You whisper, looking from Eldon over to his father, narrowing your eyes at Monroe. “None of you.”

For a brief second, you think Monroe almost looks intimidated by the intensity in your voice. But then again, maybe that’s just the pain clouding your reality.

Eldon’s cocky grin once more spreads across his face.

“We’ll see about that. In fact, I am about to head over to their little home base right now.”

You furrow your brows, confusion and concern all over your face, and his grin only widens.

“That’s right.” He hums. “After you so bravely sacrificed yourself, I couldn’t manage find the little redhead. But I did put a nifty little tracking device on her car before I ran off with you.”

Your stomach drops.

“And it’s already given me the exact address of that special secret lair of theirs.”

Your stomach sinks even further, your mind racing at the thought of your boys and Charlie being ambushed at home. You’re trying to remind yourself that they can handle themselves, that they’ll come out on top even in a surprise attack. But then Eldon speaks up again.

“And I expect quite a fight when I get there,” He croons, leaning down closer to you and whispering, “Especially since I told Dean Winchester you’re dead.”

You can’t help the shock that flashes across your face at hearing that.

Your thoughts race once more. This isn’t good. If Dean believes Eldon – and with the amount of blood you’re sure you left behind in that room, you know he might – then he thinks you’re dead. He was already teetering over the edge, and had been for weeks, with you right by his side. If he really thinks he’s lost you again, then he’s already hurtled over that edge and let the darkness – let the Mark - swallow him whole.

You know that in your gut.

“Why?” You breathe out.

“Just couldn’t help myself, I suppose.” He says with a smile. “Plus him havin’ that pesky Mark on his arm makes it just too easy to mess with him. It’s fun. I’m bettin’ it’ll make for quite the fight when I see him again.”

Despite your concern, you laugh to yourself at that.

“Really?” You ask, smirking up at him. “Because I’m betting he’ll end you in seconds.”

He just laughs down at you, his eyes once again raking over your body before landing on your face once more.

“Oh, you are somethin’ else. Sure do wish I could stay here and keep you company through your little procedure, but I’ve got to head on out to your home sweet home. I’m gonna take what’s ours, and then I’m gonna burn the rest to ashes.”

You’re disturbed both by the thought of the bunker burning and by his use of his word “procedure”, but you don’t let him see it.

“Yeah, well be careful,” You say sarcastically, “It’d be a real shame if you accidentally lit yourself on fire in the process.”

He laughs again, once again leaning down to get closer to you.

“Sure do hate sayin’ goodbye to those pretty eyes.” He drawls. “Maybe I’ll keep them all to myself once they’re cut outta that head of yours.” He stands up straight, admiring you once more before walking away from you and out of the room.

You swallow hard, feeling a lump in your throat. You can’t deny the nausea you feel now. If you had any doubts before about why you’re here, you don’t anymore. They’re gonna take you apart, piece by piece.

Monroe grins down at you.

“Wondering why you’re here? Well, you’re strong. Beautiful. You got some mighty fine features on you.”

You roll your eyes in both annoyance and disgust.

“Oh, stop the compliments, they’ll go straight to my head.” You mumble sarcastically.

“Hell,” He goes on, completely ignoring you, “You might even be the perfect woman if it wasn’t for that darned attitude you seem to have.”

You scoff.

“Trust me, you can cut as deep as you want, but this attitude isn’t going anywhere.” You quip.

“Oh, that’s alright,” He says, “We can just cut out all of our favorite parts and find someone with a better attitude to give ‘em too. But we’re gonna do it nice and slow, just to see how long you can last. Sound good, hm?”

He reaches over toward the tray of tools next to him, and you tense up, tugging once more at the restraints holding you down. He picks up a scalpel and turns back toward you with a smile, and you’re glaring up at him, your demeanor remaining stoic despite the rising concern in your chest.

He lowers the scalpel toward you slowly, the shiny tip glistening in the bright lights above you. You tug harder, but the sturdy leather around your wrists doesn’t budge. You hold your breath as he presses the cold tip against your sternum, waiting for the pain.

And then his phone rings.

He pulls the scalpel away from your body, placing it down next to him once more and pulling his phone from his pocket. You let out a long breath, your tense body relaxing slightly as you do.

“Yes?” Monroe asks over the phone.

He listens intently to whomever is on the other end for a few seconds, and an unnerving grin appears on his face when hears whatever this person has to say.

“Is that right?” He asks. “Well, thank you very much for that information.”

With that, he hangs up the phone. He looks down at you, still grinning.

“That, my dear, was the Sheriff.” He announces. “Seems THE Dean Winchester himself is on his way here right now.”

You exhale sharply. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the slightest bit of relief knowing Dean is on his way here. Maybe he doesn’t think you’re dead after all.

But that relief doesn’t last long.

Because maybe he does still think you’re dead, and the Mark is compelling him to come here and rain his wrath down on every last Styne.

Any other time, you’d be all for that. But not if it means he’s putting himself in danger. And not if it means he’s given the Mark complete control.

“Well, now, that oughta make all of this just so much more fun, huh?” Monroe states, amused. He turns around and nods to the two guards you had almost forgotten were in the room with you. “Let’s go get him, boys.”

He turns around once more, leaning over to whisper to you.

“Don’t worry, darlin’, we will be right back.”

You grimace at him, and he just stands up with a wink before heading out of the room, the two men following behind him.

You tug once more at your bindings, urgently looking around the room for anything that might be able to free you. When you don’t see anything within your reach, you drop your head back down onto the table with a defeated thunk, staring up at the lights.

You’re stuck, and Dean is on his way. About to face off against Monroe and who knows how many more Stynes. Alone.

You have no idea what he’s about to do to them. Or what they’re about to do to him. Or more importantly, what the Mark is about to do to him.

Shit.

It wasn’t hard for Dean to beat his way out of the police station. In fact, as soon as he found out he’d been arrested because of the Stynes, he used it to his advantage, forcing their address from the Sheriff before knocking him unconscious. Now, he knows exactly where he’s going.

He pulls just down the road from the large house, shutting the car off quickly so as not to attract any attention to himself. Not yet, anyway.

It's dark out now, and he knows they won't see him coming.

He gets out of the car and glances at the trunk, considering all the weapons it holds. Slowly, he reaches his arm back around himself and under his jacket, gripping the gun in his waistband there. He releases it, then reaches inside his jacket to run his fingers along the blade stashed there in one pocket, and the silencer in the other.

He looks away from the trunk, silently deciding he won’t need any more weapons than these two. He rolls his neck, feeling it crack as he does. He takes a deep, determined breath and sets his shoulders. His strong gaze is unwavering as he looks at the house merely yards from him.

His eyes narrow, and he starts walking.

His bow legs move quickly, but he isn’t rushed. His boot-clad feet fall silently on the dewy grass with each deliberate step. He moves through the darkness stealthily, choosing to make his approach through the trees that line the mansion’s backyard.

He has no hesitation, no thought other than to destroy anything and everything in his way. He spots the first guard through the shadows of the spacious yard, a large man gripping a large gun and gazing lazily around the property.

The guy doesn’t even see him coming.

Dean’s movements are extraordinarily swift and deliberate as he strides silently up behind him, drawing his knife from his jacket. In one flawless motion, he buries the knife to the hilt in the side of the guard’s neck before he even has a chance to make a sound. Dean’s other hand grips the guard’s jacket firmly, catching his body as it goes limp and guiding it to drop silently onto the ground.

Without so much as a second look, Dean’s wiping the bloody knife on his jeans as he steps over him and heads around a set of bushes, making his way closer to the back door with each step. He stops when he sees two more guards, the two of them walking in opposite directions as they patrol the back door. Placing his knife back in his pocket, he pulls out his silencer instead, reaching behind himself and pulling the gun from his waistband at the same time.

He begins walking again, screwing the silencer into his gun as he approaches the guard closest to him. By the time the guard realizes Dean’s behind him, Dean has the tip of the gun pressed firmly between his shoulder blades.

The guard stiffens up and falls silent, his wide eyes looking at the other guard a few feet away, facing the other direction.

“Pst.” Dean whispers.

The other guard whips around, and the second he’s facing them, Dean’s already buried two bullets in his skull. Dean quickly turns the gun back to the guard right in front of him, firing two more silent shots into his back, and turning around before the body even hits the ground. He reaches back into his jacket and pulls his knife out once more, now wielding a weapon in each large hand.

Dean’s jaw is set, his lips almost pouting and his mouth curling ever-so-subtly into a snarl as he grips both of his weapons tightly and faces the back door. With one furious movement, he kicks the door, sending it flying open.

He’s immediately faced with two more large guards, both of them looking stunned by his entrance. He raises his gun at one while quickly striding up to the other. He fires three more times, killing the guard that’s further away. Before that one hits the floor, Dean’s face with the other. He swings his blade a single time, so quickly that the guard can’t even register the motion. In less than a second, the guard’s throat is slit, the blood raining down his front and cascading onto the white marble floor. He drops to his knees, wide-eyed, before falling forward into the pool of his own red liquid.

Dean turns, facing the now eerily silent room in front of him. He hasn’t broken a sweat. His breathing is steady. The look in his eyes is wildly fierce, yet he’s unsettlingly calm. He glances to either side of him before taking a few quiet but purposeful steps forward. He narrows his eyes as he glances once more around the large room, silently searching for his next pathetic victim.

He raises his gun, intent on taking a few more steps, when as if out of thin air he hears the cocking of at least half a dozen guns. More men appear along with the sound, lining the large staircase above him. He’s suddenly completely outmanned, and he knows it. Yet there’s not even the slightest tinge of fear in his stoic frame. He just glares up at his new friends, his mind already running through all the things he’ll do to them the second he’s given the chance.

A single figure now stands out among them, an older man with white hair. He straightens his tie as he grins down at Dean, walking about halfway down the stairs. He stops, grinning and outstretching his arms.

“Dean Winchester!” He exclaims in delight. “Welcome to my humble abode. We’ve got a welcome gift waiting for you just upstairs!”

Before Dean can react, there’s a film of plastic covering his face from behind. He tries to suck in air, but the attempt is futile. The dizziness hits him so quickly he doesn’t have a chance to fight back. His lungs burn and his head swims.

And despite his brain being clouded by the Mark, your face is still the last thing he pictures before his consciousness leaves him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I hope you enjoyed and thank you so much for sharing this with me!


	68. Chapter 68

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Stynes now have both Dean and the Reader. What does that mean for both of them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> Hope everyone is doing okay. This chapter contains one of my most favorite scenes from this show. (I think a lot of you are probably quite fond of it as well).
> 
> So, I hope I can do it justice, and I hope you enjoy!

Dean’s here.

The idea fills you with both excitement and dread at the same time.

Here you are, trapped, helplessly awaiting whatever fate may come back through those doors.

You strain to hear whatever may be going on outside the room, but you can’t hear anything. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

You’re still pulling at the leather around your wrists, and although you’re confident you can wiggle out of it eventually, you’re also certain you don’t have that kind of time right now.

A few more moments go by of deafening quiet, and all you can think about is what may be happening to Dean right now. The Stynes could be hurting him. Hell, they could be killing him. And if they do that… well, then the love of your life will be a demon. Again.

Or, he could be killing them. Slaughtering them all. You’re not naïve enough to think that the Mark wouldn’t give him that power. But if he does… you know that will mean that the Mark will own him completely. And for all you know, that could be just as bad as him being a demon.

You know how to cure a demon. You have no idea if Sam and Cass and Charlie have figured out how to cure the Mark.

All these thoughts race through your aching head and just as they begin to drown you, you hear the doors of the room bursting open.

You tilt your head as far as you can, trying desperately to get a view of whatever and whoever is crashing into the room. And as soon as you can see, your heart sinks.

A couple guards, led by Monroe, are dragging an unconscious Dean Winchester into the room.  
They throw him onto a metal table only a couple feet to the right of you, just like the one you’re on. They strap him down by his wrists just like you’re strapped down. He doesn’t look too hurt, and for that you’re grateful. And you can’t deny the way your stomach flutters at just the sight of him. But you don’t know what they did to him. And you don’t know what the Mark’s done to him. And that uncertainty terrifies you more than you’d even like to admit.

As soon as Dean is secured to the table, the two guards once more take their places at the other end of the room, and Monroe smugly grins over at you.

“Oh, don’t worry, he’s just fine. Should wake up any minute. And you should SEE what he did down there.”

He sees your eyes widen at that, which you can tell only satisfies him more.

“He absolutely destroyed all of our outside security!” He exclaims, sounding impressed. “Took them out in mere moments. This man…” He wags a finger at Dean, “This man is an absolute monster. It’s… magnificent.”

You clench your jaw, tensing up and looking anxiously over at Dean. As much as you want to tell yourself that Monroe’s lying, you know he’s not. You’ve known it in your gut since the second Eldon said he told Dean you were dead. You knew he’d let the Mark in, do anything to get revenge for you. And even though you’re alive, you’re afraid that doesn’t even matter anymore. That it may already be too late.

Less than a minute later, the doors open once more and a young woman – a nurse – walks in and silently begins laying out and cleaning Monroe’s surgical instruments. You watch her cautiously, trying not to let your growing concern show on your face.

She is followed by another young man with blonde hair and blue eyes. He looks like a younger version of Eldon, and you know at once that he must be another one of Monroe’s sons.

“Ugh,” You scoff, “You assholes just keep coming, don’t you? How many versions of the same idiot did you make, Pops?” You ask mockingly, glancing over at Monroe.

The young man looks down at you, grinning.

“Well, hello there. Pleasure. My name’s-"

“I truly do not care.” You interrupt, glaring up at him.

He looks insulted, but Monroe just chuckles.

“I warned you about her, Eli. Didn’t I?”

Before either of them have a chance to say anything else, Dean begins to stir, and your butterflies begin to stir along with him. Your heart starts beating faster with every twitch of his muscles and flutter of his eyelashes.

Everyone in the room watches him in anticipation, and after a few seconds his eyes finally open. He furrows his brows at the bright lights above him, clenching and unclenching his fists as he realizes his wrists are restrained. He blinks a few times, coming to terms with his situation, and it’s then that he finally glances around the room.

Even in the brief few seconds of him looking around the room, his expression gives you chills. The look on his face is so dark, so cold, that it scares you. All it takes – all it has ever taken – is mere seconds for you to be able to read him. And what you’re reading from him right now is a complete and utter lack of emotion.

He observes his surroundings slowly, that icy look on his face never once fading. Then, after a few more long seconds, his eyes finally look next to him and land on you.

He immediately inhales sharply, the surprise evident on his face. The clouds in his dark eyes dissipate slightly, a sudden softness washing over his hard features. His jaw quivers slightly, his eyebrows furrowing once more. There’s a flash of the real Dean – your Dean – that flickers in his eyes, and it makes your heart swell.

“Hey, handsome.” You murmur.

He exhales a deep breath, still looking at you in awe.

“Hiya, Gorgeous.”

The two of you stare at each other, and for a fleeting moment you actually let yourself believe that maybe he isn’t as far gone as you thought he was. And for a fleeting moment, maybe he actually lets himself believe it, too.

But as you look at him, it’s as if you can see the internal struggle behind those green orbs. The relief that was all over his face at seeing you, it slowly morphs back into the unrelenting emptiness you had seen before. He looks almost apologetic as that look of pure love for you fades back into his look of hatred for everyone else in the room.

“Hey, tough guy,” You whisper, trying to bring him back to you, “It’s okay now. I’m right here.”

He looks at you and smiles, but there’s a hollowness behind the smile.

“Yeah, you are.” He rasps. “Lookin’ damn good for a dead chick, too.”

Your heart aches but you smile back, acknowledging his desperate attempt to keep the situation light despite the fact that he knows you can see the darkness behind his eyes.

“Ah, please,” You nod towards Monroe and the others around the room, “You really thought THESE jokers could kill me?” You look back at him, smirking. “You know better.”

“Yeah,” He chuckles, “I guess I do.”

What little smile he had left fades completely when he looks at your bare stomach, seeing the fresh stitching and bloody, bruised flesh surrounding it. You swallow hard, watching his eyes darken each second that he looks at it.

“It’s fine, Dean.” You murmur, trying to look at him softly, trying to soothe him. “Doesn’t even hurt.”

The fact is, it hurts like a bitch. But you can see the rage building in him once again, and at this point you’d say anything to try to combat it.

But it doesn’t work.

His sinister stare moves from the wound on your side over to Monroe.

“You’re gonna pay for that, you son of a bitch.” He growls.

Monroe just chuckles.

“Me?! Well, now, Dean. I didn’t even do that. That would be my son, Eldon. In fact, I’m the one who fixed our dear girl up.”

“She ain’t your girl.” Dean spits back. “And don’t worry, because I’m gonna make Eldon pay, too. I’m gonna make you all pay.”

“That might be hard.” The younger one, who you now know to be Eli, speaks up. “Since Eldon’s on his way to your little home base to burn it and everyone in it to the ground.”

Dean’s expression doesn’t even falter.

“No, it won’t be hard.” Dean states. “Ripping each and every one of you to shreds? Won’t be hard at all. In fact, I think it’ll be fun.”

Monroe chuckles once more.

“Well, I can appreciate the confidence, son, however misguided. You really came in here guns blazing. I respect that. But, tell me – did you really think it would work?”

Dean scoffs. “Usually does.”

“Hm.” Monroe responds. “It was a valiant effort to save your dearest.” He glances over at you, and you glare back at him.

“But, a failed effort nonetheless.” He goes on. “Tell me, Dean, do you know what happens now?”  
Dean glances around the room once more.

“Let me guess,” His voice rumbles through the room, “You’re gonna play operation.”

“It is my favorite game!” Monroe affirms with a grin. “The question is… which one of you do I want to start with?” He looks between you and Dean excitedly.

“Trust me,” Dean warns, “You don’t want to do this.”

The coldness of his tone isn’t even directed at you, and it’s still frightening.

“Well, I am afraid we are past the bargaining stage.” Monroe says with a laugh.

“No,” Dean insists, “This Mark on my arm means I can’t die. You flatline me, I will come back. But I’ll come back with black eyes. And then you’ll all die.”

Just hearing him say it out loud makes your stomach sink.

Eli laughs, standing directly above Dean and looking down at him condescendingly.

“And we let you go, then what? You’ll just mosey on down the road?”

“No.” Dean grits, his icy green stare looking up and locking with Eli’s. “But maybe a few of you live. Maybe.”

For a second, Eli looks genuinely alarmed by Dean’s promise. He looks at his father, but Monroe just laughs Dean off once more.

“Well, I sure do hope you’re right.” Monroe jeers. “Because a man who can’t die… now, that is a perfect lab rat.”

You can’t help the bitter laugh that falls from your lips.

“Somethin’ funny, darlin’?” Monroe asks.

“Yeah, you.” You say, looking over at him. “Talk about misguided confidence.”

Monroe just watches you with his eyebrows raised, waiting for you to elaborate.

You narrow your eyes at him.

“He wasn’t kidding.” You say, nodding subtly at Dean as you do. “Take it from someone who knows. You do not want to touch him.” You lower your voice to a whisper. “He will tear all of you apart.”

Despite the seriousness in your tone, Monroe’s grin lights up his face once more.

“These two and their mouths, huh? The threats!” He exclaims, nodding at Eli. “Let’s do somethin’ about that.”

Eli nods back, smirking as he picks up a piece of cloth and yanks it roughly into Dean’s mouth and around the back of his head. Dean grunts in defiance, his infuriated eyes staring up at Eli.

Eli then walks over to you, doing the same to you. You grunt out as well, shooting a frustrated glare up at Eli as he ties the cloth a little too tightly around your head. You and Dean exchange heated looks, and you can see his enraged defensiveness of you all over his face.

“I will tell you, dear, you are absolutely right.” Monroe hums, looking at you. “I don’t want to touch Dean - not yet. I mean, everyone knows it’s ladies first, right?” He taunts.

At the same time, he extends an open palm, and the nurse immediately places a freshly sanitized scalpel into his hand. Monroe’s eyes light up with excitement as he walks closer to you, looking you up and down and gripping the scalpel tightly.

Dean’s eyes widen, and he begins to struggle against his restraints.

“How about we start by slicin’ off this pretty little tattoo of yours, hm?” Monroe taunts as he slowly bring the scalpel down toward the Devil’s Trap tattoo on your ribs. Dean grunts, tugging even harder now. You glare up at Monroe, not willing to show him an ounce of fear.

Despite that, Monroe and Eli both smile as Monroe presses the tip into your flesh and the first streak of blood begins to trickle down your side. You close your eyes and inhale sharply, refusing to give them the satisfaction of any further reaction.

An enraged growl now rips from Dean’s throat, and he yanks once more at the leather binding his wrists.

But this time, it gives way.

He snaps the leather from around his right wrist, immediately reaching over and grabbing Monroe by the back of his lab coat. He tosses Monroe across the room with ease, sending him flying into a table a few feet away.

Eli looks at Dean, shocked. He starts to rush him, but Dean is already picking up a bone saw from the tray of tools and swiping it through the air, effectively slicing through Eli’s neck. Eli gurgles out a surprised groan as the blood pours out of him before he collapses forward, dead.

It’s all happening so quickly, your brain can hardly process it. You’re just watching, wide-eyed and helpless, as Dean continues his merciless assault.

The two guards that were across the room are rushing toward him in an instant, but Dean slices through the leather on his left wrist and frees himself completely before they reach him. With the gag still in his mouth, he grabs a scalpel from the table next to him and plunges it into the eye of the guard that reaches him first. The guard cries out in pain, grabbing his face as he falls to the ground with a loud thump. The other guard swings a heavy fist at Dean, but Dean manages to quickly duck it as he tosses his thick legs over the side of the table and leaps off of it.

The guard spins around to face Dean, intent on swinging once more, but Dean’s already swinging at him. Dean hits him so hard that it sends him flying backward, landing on his back on the metal table Dean just hopped off of. Before the guard can sit up, Dean pins him down, grabs a pair of surgical scissors, buries them in the side of his neck, then yanks them out roughly.

You watch as a fountain of blood sprays from his neck, and he chokes on it for a few seconds before he goes silent. The nurse screams, grabbing an empty syringe and running at Dean in a panic. Dean never even has a second to take the gag from his mouth as he spins around, grabbing her by the wrist and throat and throwing her onto the metal table atop the dead guard. He pries the syringe from her hand, slamming it into her chest and plunging the air into her heart without hesitation. She cries out in fear and pain, and goes limp immediately after.

Dean finally pauses his attack, his chest heaving and his incensed eyes looking around the room as he roughly yanks the gag out of his mouth. You just watch him, terrified and spellbound, in complete awe of everything he just did.

You see him look toward the door, and it’s then that you also see Monroe trying to silently crawl out of the room. Dean stalks over to him, standing behind him and wrapping his large arms around Monroe’s throat in an inescapable chokehold.

Monroe claws fruitlessly at Dean’s arms, choking and gasping for breath. You don’t even look at Monroe, though, because your wide eyes are fixed on Dean. His strong muscles squeeze Monroe’s throat, his jaw clenched, his arms and face and chest already spattered with blood. But what you notice most – what stands out in such a dreadful way – is the look on his face.

He’s completely unaffected. Entirely detached from his actions. He’s so much more than merciless. He’s emotionless.

“You tried to take something from me.” Dean’s deep voice murmurs to Monroe. “Now, I’m gonna take everything from you.”

“Doesn’t… matter,” Monroe gasps, “Your home… your… family…”

Before he has a chance to finish, Dean tightens his grip, snapping Monroe’s neck with an echoing crack.

Slowly, Dean stands, dropping Monroe’s lifeless body in the corner as he does. He’s breathing heavily, his maddened gaze once more glancing around the blood-splattered room. The room is eerily quiet, the air incredibly tense. Your heart is in your throat as you look at him, desperately trying to locate your Dean somewhere inside the shockingly lethal man that stands before you. His gaze finally lands on you, and he strides over to you. His dark green eyes assess you intently, but you can immediately tell that they’re lacking the same concern they typically have. A concern you don’t think he can feel right now.

“Hey, you okay?” He asks gruffly as he pulls the gag from your mouth.

“Y-yeah,” You utter with a nod. “Yeah, fine. Just get me the Hell out of these.” You tug at the leather still secured around your wrists.

He just continues looking at you, but he doesn’t reach for your restraints. After a few long seconds he just shakes his head and takes a small step back.

“I can’t.” He rasps.

You look at him, wide-eyed and confused.

“What?!”

“There’s more of ‘em out there,” He nods toward the doors leading to the rest of the house, then looks back down at you. “I gotta take ‘em out. I need to. And you’re already hurt. You’ll only slow me down. You’ll be a liability.”

His words, and the lack of concern in them, cut through you to your core. But still, you fight to get through to him.

“Dean, no.” You say as calmly as you can. “You don’t need to do it. You don’t need to do anything right this second. And you definitely don’t need to do anything alone-"

“You’ll be safe in here.” He states, ignoring you. “Trust me, no one is gettin’ past me. And you and I both know you’ll scheme your own way outta those leather straps eventually.”

“Dean, dammit!” You shout. “No!”

He turns and begins to walk away from you, and you feel your desperation spilling over.

“Dean, please…” You plead in a whisper, your voice giving away your pain more than you meant for it to.

He stops walking abruptly, and for half a second you actually have hope again. He turns around and walks back over to you. He looks down at you once more, and his calloused hand reaches out and grips the side of your face gently, his thumb running over your bottom lip.

You’re trying so hard to look INTO him, to get him to see past the power of the Mark and to just see you. But as you study him, you know it’s futile. Right now, it’s pointless. You can see it in his eyes.

He bends down and kisses you slowly, and your heart literally hurts as he does. Despite that, you savor it, relishing the feeling of his soft lips against yours. He squeezes his eyes closed tightly, and his thumb caresses your cheek. As he kisses you, you know there’s some part of him in there that’s using this kiss to apologize, to tell you he still loves you in the only way he still can.

But that part is buried so deep right now. It’s buried too deep right now. And in this moment, there is nothing more you can do to dig it out.

He pulls away from the kiss, his hand still on your cheek, his eyes still closed. His plump lips brush against yours for a few seconds, his shaky breath heating you to your core, and for a passing moment you can feel his reluctance to walk away from you. Finally, he pulls away and stands up straight, his beautifully foreboding green eyes looking down at you apologetically one more time before he turns away again.

You close your eyes, your aching heart sinking in defeat.

He walks away from you, grabbing the gun off of Monroe’s lifeless body and cocking it. He turns toward the doors, his face once more determined and emotionless. With one swift motion, he kicks doors open. And without a second’s hesitation, he stomps forward and out of the room.

After a moment, you hear shouting and shooting and grunting down the hall and echoing through the large house. You’re once more desperately trying to get out of your restraints, tugging and twisting and thrashing against the thick leather.

Then after a few more moments, you hear nothing. Nothing but deafening silence.

None of the Stynes come up for you, which is a good sign.

But neither does Dean, which isn’t.

Then, it dawns on you. He left. Eldon went to the bunker, and Dean’s going after him. Alone.

This realization only fuels your fire, and you continue your fight against the straps holding you down. You’re twisting and yanking so hard that it hurts. But when you feel the leather beginning to loosen and stretch, you only tug harder. Finally, after what feels like forever, you wriggle your raw right wrist out of the strap and sit up, immediately reaching over and freeing the other. You hop off the table hurriedly, exasperatedly looking around the room for a weapon and a goddamn shirt.

You find your own bloodied flannel on a surgical table a few feet from you. You grab it and throw it on, hissing at the screaming pain in your side. You button your shirt up hastily as you kneel down and grab a gun from one of the many corpses littering the room.

You look around quickly for your phone, but when you don’t see it, you decide you don’t have any more time to waste anyway. You take a deep breath and walk toward the open doors, your emotions nearly overwhelming you.

You’re worried for Dean, obviously. And you’re sad for him. You know how hard he fought, for so long, to avoid this. You know how desperately he wanted to refrain from becoming the man that he’s become. And for that, you feel terrible for him.

But… you’re also angry.

How dare he leave you here? How dare he think that there will EVER be anything that would make you give up on him? Mark or not, he should know you better than that.

So, you are going to chase him. And you are going to prove to him that you will never give up on him. No matter what it takes. Just like always.

You rush out of the room and into the large house, and you’re immediately stopped dead in your tracks.

Massacre.

It’s the only word that comes to mind.

It’s a god damn massacre. Everyone is slaughtered. Over a dozen men lie in pools of their own blood. Beaten, brutalized, damn near torn into pieces. Despite everything you’ve seen in your life, it’s nothing short of shocking. These monsters had it coming, and it stills shocks you.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to keep your composure and your focus. You have only one mission now.

Save Dean.

Yeah, he’s dangerous. Hell, he may be the most dangerous man alive. And you know most people would probably run from the most dangerous man alive.

But, you’re not most people.

You don’t want to run from Dean.

You want to save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU for reading!!!!
> 
> I really hope you liked it. Your feedback always thrills me and keeps me going. You guys are the best.


	69. Chapter 69

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reader is chasing Dean back to the bunker, but what will she find when she gets there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys...
> 
> I can't believe this friggin' story now has over 10,000 hits. I NEVER expected this kind of support or for this to have any hits, let alone that many. I still don't know how that happened, but I'm super excited. Thank you guys, seriously. You rock.
> 
> As always, please enjoy!

Sam can’t get you out of his head.

It’s like a pit in his stomach, the guilt and the heartache he feels over you. The only thing keeping him going is the fact that he still needs to save his brother, and the fact that that’s exactly what you would tell him to do if you were here.

And God, does he wish you were here right now. To tell him he’s doing the right thing. Or call his ass out if he isn’t. Because he knows you would. And he’d give just about anything to hear your voice, even if it’s just you yelling at him.

But you’re not here. And he still needs to save Dean.

So, here he is.

With a hex bag crafted by Rowena. She did a quick tracking spell, and now he’s on his way to kill Crowley.

As he drives, he worries endlessly about his brother. Dean’s been gone for a long time now, and still with no word. Sam checks his phone every two minutes, even though he knows he won’t get anything.

He desperately wanted to send Cass after him, but he just couldn’t bring himself to leave Charlie alone with Rowena. Not after almost losing her along with you. Not after you just sacrificed yourself to save her. It just felt wrong. But not sending Cass after Dean feels wrong, too.

What the Hell is he doing?

He feels trapped, torn in a dozen directions at once. But, he needs to keep going. He needs to stay strong.

He knows Dean would.

He knows you would, too.

Suddenly, his phone rings. He had been so lost in thought that he jumps in surprise as it buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out eagerly, and his eyes go wide when he sees the name on the screen. He answers and presses the phone to his ear urgently.

“Dean?!”

“Hi, Sam.”

Sam’s stomach drops at the sound of his brother’s voice. It’s so cold, so harsh, that for a second Sam isn’t even sure it’s him.

“Dean, are you-"

“Don’t talk, just listen. Are you at the bunker? Is Charlie at the bunker?”

“Uh, n-no-"

“Good. Eldon’s on his way there. And I’m on my way to kill him. Keep Charlie away.”

Sam’s heart races and his eyes widen further.

“What?! Dean, n-"

The line goes dead before he can finish his sentence.

As what Dean said begins to sink in, Sam’s panic rises and his mind races. The Stynes are going after the bunker? If that’s true, they’ll tear it apart. Destroy everything in it and destroy the only home he and his brother have ever known in the process. Eldon wouldn’t go there alone, Sam knows that. He must’ve brought back up. And Dean is going after them alone. How many Stynes has he already killed? How hurt is already? How far gone has the Mark made him?

Sam’s thoughts are so dizzying he nearly has to pull over to get himself together. Instead, he decides to call Cass.

“Sam?” Cass picks up after the first ring.

“Cass! Dean called me. H-he’s on his way home. To the bunker. He said Eldon is on his way there. I-I don’t know how he knows where it is, or how many guys he has with him, but Dean is going after him.”

“How does he know Eldon’s on his way there?” Cass asks.

“I have no idea. He… he didn’t say much. But Cass – he sounded bad. He sounded worse than before he left.” The words sting Sam’s mouth as he says them.

There’s a heavy silence on the other end for a few seconds.

“Sam, what should we do? I can’t bring Charlie there, and you must be at least an hour away by now. Who knows how many men Eldon may be bringing with him? And Dean will be facing them all, alone. Are we really going to let him do that?”

Sam’s jaw clenches as he here’s the concern – a justified concern – in Castiel’s voice. He knows the angel’s right. They can’t let Dean do this alone anymore. But he’s also right that Sam is over an hour away. He’d never get back in time. A fact that makes him feel sick. Of course, he screwed up again. Now – he’s too far away to get back in time to help and he’s too close to Crowley to back out on this plan now – not if it’s the only way to save Dean.

So, that leaves Cass. But that would mean leaving Charlie alone with Rowena, and that makes him feel just as sick.

“Sam?” Cass asks, waiting for direction.

“Oh, all this melodrama is nonsense!” Sam hears Rowena exclaim in the background. “I won’t hurt the girl. I couldn’t even if I wanted to! Chains, remember?! Besides, I don’t want to. We need each other. And besides even that, I still wouldn’t! The lass and I are friends!”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t go that far.” He hears Charlie sass. “But, I WILL be fine, Sam. We need to help Dean!”

Sam’s still so hesitant. He feels like he’s perpetually trapped between a rock and a hard place. He finally sighs deeply, answering with a shaky voice.

“Okay. Go after him. But Cass, be prepared. I don’t know what Dean you’re gonna run into when you get there. From the sounds of him, not a good one. I’ll deal with Crowley and be back as soon as I can.”

“I’ll do everything I can, Sam.” Cass rumbles.

Sam hangs up the phone, gripping the steering wheel tight and staring contritely at the road ahead of him.

How the Hell did he get here? How did he let everyone get here?

It’s all his fault.

If he had told the truth sooner, things would be different. If he had told YOU the truth sooner, you would’ve helped him. He knows you would’ve. And somehow, you would’ve thought of some brilliant way to convince Dean and Rowena to do anything you asked and some brilliant way cure the Mark without breaking a sweat.

He knows he should’ve told you sooner.

But, he didn’t.

And he hates himself for that.

So, here he is.

Driving toward a mission he doesn’t really want to complete, especially not right now.

But he will.

Because at this point, what else can he do?

You steal a car from the Styne house and race home after Dean.

Home.

You can only imagine what might be happening there. What Eldon and his men might have already done to it. Hell, you aren’t even sure if the place will still be standing when you get there.

You’re speeding down the highway, trying to make up as much time as you possibly can. Eldon had quite a head start on Dean, and Dean had at least a 20 minute head start on you.

It may not seem like much, but you know damn well how much can happen in just 20 minutes.   
Your heart is in your throat as you finally arrive at the bunker after what feels like the longest drive of your life. You’re relieved that it’s not already a pile of ash, but you’re terrified of what you might find inside. You leap out of the car and rush inside, holding your breath as you open the heavy door.

You hear scuffling – the sounds of a fight – and you immediately grab the gun from the waistband of your jeans. You assume it’s Dean and Eldon, but you peer into the library as you hurry down the stairs, and the first thing you see is Eldon lying in a pool of his own blood, lifeless.

So then who the Hell is Dean fighting?

You reach the bottom of the stairs and race through the map room, and you stand in the doorway just in time to see Dean bring an angel blade down right next to a bloodied and beaten Castiel.

You feel immediately lightheaded seeing Cass in the condition he’s in. And that’s just made so much worse by the fact that Dean is clearly the one who did it.

And even though you don’t want to believe it, you already know why.

Cass got in his way.

He must have tried to stop Dean from leaving, because Dean’s decided he’s already too far gone. You knew he’d decided that from the second he kissed you and left you alone in that room.

Now, he’s covered in blood, his chest heaving as he stares down at the hardly conscious angel.  
“Next time, I won’t miss.” He growls as he lets go of the blade and stands.

He turns to walk away, and that’s when he sees you in the doorway. He sees you staring at him, your whole body clearly on edge. You glance at Cass, and seeing him looking at you in shock despite the fact that he’s only hardly conscious. That's when you remember he thought you were dead. The two of you share a knowing look before you look back to Dean.

He doesn’t look guilty or sad about what he just did to his best friend. He just looks determined, focused. There’s an emptiness in his eyes right now that is only matched by when he was a demon.

And that terrifies you, though you’ll never let him see it.

You nod toward Castiel, but keep your eyes fixed on Dean.

“You gonna do that to me, now?” You breathe.

He takes a step toward you, his eyes studying you.

“Not if you don’t make me.” He states callously.

You exhale sharply.

“Well, you know me better than that.” You retort.

He glances down at the gun you had forgotten you were even holding. You look down at it, then back at him. Then, you uncock it and place it back in the waistband of your jeans. There’s no point in you holding onto it, when you both know you’d never use it. Not on him.

He steps forward, trying to get through the doorway and past you. But you don’t let him, and instead you just shuffle backward into the map room, refusing to let him pass.

“Y/N…” You hear Cass faintly choke out through his blood, sending you a warning he already knows you won’t heed.

“Let me go, Sweetheart.” Dean states calmly.

“No.” You respond, your voice strong.

He stomps around you, but you grab him by the bicep and forcefully turn him toward you. He pushes you, clearly holding back from doing worse, but you just grab him again and turn him even more, shoving him further away from the stairs.

You see the impatience in his eyes growing, and your heart starts to pound. You’re no fool, you know that you can’t physical stop him for long. On a regular day, you might be able to give him a run for his money in a fight. But with that Mark on his arm, you wouldn’t stand a chance against him. But you don’t care. You know you’d never be able to just let him walk away without putting up a fight. That’s just not who you are. And you know he knows that, too.

“Don’t make me do this.” He whispers coldly.

“I am not making you do a damn thing.” You counter.

“You are if you don’t let me leave.” He states.

“Oh, I’m not letting you leave.” You snap. “Because you still need to fight this. And you need to be here, with us, to do that.”

“Fight it?” He scoffs, glaring at you. “Oh, it’s already too late for that.”

“No, it’s not.” You answer, your hand still gripping tightly to his tensed bicep.

“You wanna bet?” He asks, the threat evident in his tone.

With that, he pulls himself from your grasp and tries to walk away from you once more. And again, you grab him firmly and yank on his arm. But this time – he grabs you back.

His large hands grip you by the shoulders and shove you backward, slamming you roughly into the wall behind you. Excruciating pain shoots through your side and your head at the impact.

“Y/N!” Cass chokes out once more at hearing the pained cry you hadn’t even realized you’d let out. He tries to drag himself to his feet in the other room, but he’s still hardly conscious.

Dean continues gripping you roughly, his chest heaving and his face only inches from yours. His green eyes bore into yours, and the ice in his stare nearly sends a chill down your spine.

“It is… way past too late.” He snarls.

“No,” You whisper, shaking your head, “I don’t believe that.”

Your Y/E/C eyes are pleading with his, your stare offering all the warmth that his stare is missing. You’re trying desperately to get through to him, to break through the hold of the Mark and reach the man you love. You’re giving him that same stare you’ve always given each other, the one that only the two of you share. And you know he sees it. You know he does. But the Mark just isn’t letting it get through.

“What’s it gonna take, huh?” He spits. “Is it gonna take this?”

Suddenly, he grabs you by the throat with one hand and uses his other hand to yank his knife from his back pocket. In one swift motion, he presses the tip against your chest, in the same exact spot he did when he was a demon.

When he killed you.

You gasp, your eyes going wide. You grab fistfuls of his flannel, all your muscles tensing as you feel the blade resting against your breastbone. Your blood goes cold and your heart jumps into your throat. You’re frozen, experiencing the worst kind of déjà vu.

“Dean, no.” You hear Cass grunt as he tries to drag himself through the doorway of the library, his fearful eyes taking in the sight in front of him. He’s across the room, at least ten feet away, and in his current state that might as well be miles. Even if he could reach you, he couldn’t fight Dean off. He can’t protect you right now, and all he can do is plead with Dean not to do this. And Dean just ignores him.

“Feel familiar?” Dean questions, studying your face as he continues to hold the tip of the blade firmly against you.

“Dean…” You breathe quietly, your voice shaking as tears begin to well in your eyes. You grip his shirt even tighter. You’re holding onto him for safety, even though he is the danger.

As he feels you holding onto him and sees the tears in your eyes and the fear on your face, his hard exterior cracks for half a second. He furrows his brows and looks down at the blade.

“Is this what it’s gonna take, huh?” He rasps, his voice hoarse but quiet, sounding as if it could crack at any second. “For you to believe that I’m too far gone?”

His thick lashes flutter as he looks back up at your face. And this time, you do see the pain in his eyes. He seems utterly heartbroken; disgusted at himself for doing this. But he doesn’t let you go, or pull the blade away from you. Because he truly believes he’s too far gone. That he can’t fight this, even if part of him – the part that loves you – still wants to.

And that breaks your heart, too. But it also fills your chest with a fiery fury. Even if he’s given up, you won’t. You can’t. And damn him if he really thinks you ever will.

You blink away your tears and let go of his shirt, standing up a little straighter and pressing yourself further against the knife’s tip.

“Well, go ahead then.” You say assertively, your strong gaze boring into him. “If you’re so far gone, so evil. Do it.”

He furrows his brows once more and eyes widen slightly. He’s caught off guard, surprised and confused by your challenge.

“Oh, what?” You chuckly scornfully, “You thought this would be enough to scare me away? To make me finally give up on you? Well, handsome, you’ve already killed me once and I stuck around. I’m sure I can handle it a second time.”

“No!” Cass growls, trying desperately to pull himself to his feet.

Neither you nor Dean look at Cass, the two of you just staring intensely at each other, refusing to break the gaze. The air is heavy between you, and you feel your body buzzing at the energy. Dean’s dark green eyes burn into you, his stare a mix of rage and grief. You suddenly feel him shaking as he tightens his grip on you. His jaw quivers slightly, and for a second you think he might just do it.

Suddenly, he pulls the knife away and puts it back in his waistband with an exasperated growl, and you let out a relieved sigh. He continues staring at you, still gripping you by the throat, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I knew it.” You whisper quietly, the slightest bit of hope returning to your fluttering heart.

He looks down and furrows his brows, shaking his head guiltily and licking his lips before looking back up at you.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart.” He croaks, looking into your eyes one more time.

Then, he grips you by the shoulders and slams you violently against the wall once more, much harder than the last time. Your head bounces off the wall and your consciousness begins to fade as you slowly crumple to the ground.

You try desperately to keep fighting, to make him stay, but you can barely even keep yourself awake. You watch through blurred vision as his bow legs stride purposefully up the stairs. You’re not sure, but you think you hear him murmur one more “I’m sorry” when he reaches the door.

And then, he leaves.

Dean Winchester leaves you behind, yet again.

And every time he does, it seems to hurt more than the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh I hope you're still enjoying! Thanks so much for reading!


	70. Chapter 70

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What comes next, now that Dean's left the Reader again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> This is just a quick chapter while I continue to work on what's coming next, but I still enjoyed writing it so I hope you enjoy it as well!
> 
> Also, side note: I wanted to share with you guys a little something about me/of mine! This is a playlist I made of my favorite songs/songs that remind me of the show:
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6X1CssUsJSgTq7bleVpQno?si=1s9diluwSkKnTOsnXH28UA
> 
> It's something I listen to A LOT (especially when I'm feeling sad about the show ending) and I figured you guys might like it, too. I got the idea from HarleyCAO who made an awesome playlist for this story and shared it in the comments on the first chapter!
> 
> I just love sharing this story and fandom with you amazing people and figured I'd share something else, too. Hope that's cool.
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy!

Sam did everything Rowena asked.

He followed her every instruction to kill Crowley.

And it didn’t work.

He’s furious, confused, distraught - his mind once again racing as he drives, now back in the direction of home.

Crowley’s enraged.

Sam could see it. When his attempt failed, he unlocked a dark part of Crowley that he hadn’t seen in a long time. Hell, that he’s maybe never seen. And he knows he’ll pay for that. Someday. But right now, he can’t care.

Because right now he’s gotta get back to the bunker. To help Cass and Dean fight off the Stynes. Or maybe to help Cass fight off Dean. At this point, he isn’t even sure.

He can only hope that his brother, and his friend, and his home are still intact when he gets there.

He makes it back to the bunker in record time, racing through the giant metal door with his heart in his throat. He doesn’t see anyone in the map room, or hear anything that sounds like fighting. He makes his way hesitantly down the stairs and that’s when he hears the sounds of voices in the library. He follows the sound, and sees Cass first, seated at one of the library tables.

“Please let me heal you. You’re hurt. You’ve been through a great deal.”

Sam walks further, finally reaching the doorway of the library.

He hears you at the same time he sees you, picking up some books and attempting to clean the mess that is the library.

“Cass, buddy, I appreciate it but the answer’s still no.” You place some books on a shelf and turn around. “No offense, but I know for a fact you look even worse than I do. Save your strength…”

Your last word trails off when you see Sam in the doorway. And when your bright eyes look at him, his nerve endings buzz in ecstatic shock. As he looks at you, and comes to terms with the fact that you are real, he feels his heart swell. His breath catches in his throat and he feels tears subtly stinging his wide eyes. Then you smile at him, and he swears he can feel a weight lift off of his chest.

“Damn, Sammy, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” You say with a smirk.

He exhales sharply, letting out shaky chuckle. In that brief moment, everything else falls away. All those other things overwhelming him, weighing him down and worrying him, they cease to exist.

You’re okay, and you’re here. Which means whatever he’s about to face, he’s gonna be facing it with you at his side. And that brings him a kind of comfort he could never describe.

A wide grin spreads across his face, and he strides urgently forward, wrapping his big arms around you and burying his face in your hair.

The relief floods through him as he holds you. His best friend, his family, the one he thought was dead because of him - is alive. He doesn’t know why, or how, but right now as he squeezes you tight, it doesn’t matter.

You instantly wrap your arms around him as well and squeeze him back. He didn’t even realize how desperately he needed the reassurance and security of your embrace until right this second. He huffs out another shaky breath of relief into your hair, and holds onto you for a few more long seconds.

Finally, he pulls away from you and looks down at you, still in disbelief.

“H-how?” He croaks.

“Eldon’s a liar.” You say, the venom evident in your voice. “He just wanted to hurt you guys. Specifically, to hurt Dean. I think he was trying to set him off. Thought it would be fun.”

“Well, clearly, that did not work out well for him.” Cass’ voice rumbles as he nods over to the dead Styne on the library floor.

Sam looks over at Eldon and then back to you and Cass. It’s only then that it really registers how bad of a state Cass is in, and that his brother is not here.

You know him well, and see the immediate concern and confusion all over his face. You pull out a chair for him and sit him down, then both you and Cass catch him up on everything that’s happened – everything Dean’s done – in the past 24 hours.

The more Sam hears about his brother, the more he tenses up and his concern returns. You see it all over his face, and you place a hand on his shoulder, looking intently into his eyes.

You’re trying to reassure him, but you know he can see the heartache that’s behind your eyes as well. He knows how much it must have hurt, Dean leaving you behind once more.

As hurt as he is, Sam’s heart aches for you as well. You’ve been there for him and his brother through everything. You’ve been a rock for them, and yet you always end up so hurt. As he looks at your pained face – pain that you’re trying to mask so you can comfort him – all he can think is how grateful he is that you haven’t given up on them. He silently prays to himself that no matter what, you never will.

“Look, guys,” You say with a sigh, already trying to rally the team despite your own heartbreak, “It’s bad that he’s gone, I know. Trust me, I know. But where are we with the Book? I know Charlie cracked the codex, so please tell me Rowena’s translated it by now.”

Sam and Cass exchange looks, both of them knowing where Sam had been before this.

Sam clears his throat.

“Yeah, uh, about that.”

You raise your eyebrows, both in curiosity and in a silent warning that Sam better clarify immediately.

“She… she still won’t do any spell unless I kill Crowley.” Sam states.

“Sam, I thought…” Cass starts with furrowed brows.

Sam shakes his head.

“Didn’t work.”

Cass sits back against his seat with a sharp exhale of disappointment.

“Excuse me, what didn’t work?” You demand.

Sam looks at you hesitantly.

“Rowena made me a hex bag. Said it would kill Crowley. So, I went after him.” He explains.

You scoff in shock and frustration, but Sam immediately tries to defend himself.

“She said it was the only way she’d do the spell, the only way we could save Dean! I-I didn’t know what else to do!” He furrows his brows and looks down guiltily. “Dean had run off after the Stynes, a-and you were…” He clenches his jaw.

You soften immediately, reaching out and grabbing his forearm, squeezing gently. You hadn’t even thought about how Sam must have felt without both you and Dean, and you understand what a hard situation he had been in.

“Hey, it’s okay.” You murmur. “You did what you had to. It’s okay.”

He looks at you, the appreciation for your assurance all over his face.

“I don’t understand, Sam.” Cass speaks up, confusion on his face. “If the hex bag didn’t work, and Crowley survived… how are you still alive?”

Sam scoffs. “Yeah, good question. Crowley let me live. It was some kind of power trip. Whatever happened with that hex bag not working, it unleashed something in him. He’s more powerful than I think I’ve ever seen him. And more angry. Pissed at me for that and pissed at Dean for taking the First Blade from him. The only reason he let me live is so he can make us all suffer more later, I’m sure of it.”

The concept is a lot to process. Crowley’s never been a good guy, but he’s never really been your enemy. In any other circumstance, you’d be worried about that. But not right now. Right now, you don’t have the time.

“Alright,” You state as you stand, “Let’s go see Charlie and Rowena, then.”

Sam shakes his head.

“Going back to Rowena with bad news… it’s a surefire way to make sure she never does what we need her to do.” He says.

“Uh, no, she’s gonna do what we need her to do.” You declare confidently. “Because I’m gonna convince her.”

Sam and Cass exchange brief looks of hesitation, and you scoff playfully.

“Oh, come on, guys. Don’t insult me. You know me well enough to know I’ll figure Rowena out.” You smirk down at Sam, and eventually he can’t help but smile back.

After all, you’re back. And hesitation or not, he can’t deny the joy that brings him even in this sea of chaos.

“Alright then.” He says as he stands, wrapping a large arm around your shoulder. “Let’s go. We definitely don’t have any time to waste, and I know one small computer hacker who will be really glad to see you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so, so much for reading and for the support.


	71. Chapter 71

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will the Reader be able to get everyone (including Rowena) on the same page in order to help Dean?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> New episode tonight, can't wait! Figured the best way to celebrate is also with a new chapter, right?!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

You, Sam, and Cass head straight to the old warehouse. As you round the corners in the building, the first thing you hear is bickering, and you smile to yourself when you can make out Charlie’s voice telling Rowena to ‘shut the frack up for one second’.

Your excitement builds as you get closer to the source of the sound, with Cass and Sam rounding the corner into the large room ahead of you.

“Ugh, finally!” Charlie exclaims when she sees the two of them. “I don’t think I could handle another minute alone with this-"

She’s frozen dead in her tracks as you round the corner and she gets her first glimpse of you. She goes slack-jawed and her eyes go wide with shock and excitement.

“Y/N?!” She shouts in disbelief.

You raise your eyebrows and smirk, shrugging your shoulders as you do.

“Hey there, Your Highness.” You state.

A tearful smile explodes across her face, and in an instant she barrels toward you, her small frame hitting yours full force and knocking the air from your lungs. She wraps her arms around you and squeezes tightly, and even though it hurts, you don’t care. You hug her back, chuckling as she buries her face into you.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” You say calmly, looking down at her. “I’m here. I’m good.”

After a few long seconds she finally pulls back, looking up at you emotionally.

“You saved my life.” She says, her eyes full of gratitude.

“It was nothing.” You say back.

She scoffs, “Bullcrap it was nothing! You were gonna die… for me. I thought that you DID die for me! Don’t ever do that again!”

Suddenly, you’ve gone from being thanked to being scolded.

“Honestly, don’t think I can promise that.” You chuckle.

“Ugh!” She groans exasperatedly, punching you in the shoulder as she does. “You are such a… such a… a Winchester!”

You can’t help but grin at that, and you look over to see Sam grinning back at you.

“Well, I’m gonna have to take that as a compliment, Charlie.” You say with a smirk, looking from Sam back to her.

She groans again, but can’t stop herself from hugging you tightly once more.

“I’m really glad you’re okay.” She says into your chest.

“Yeah, back at you.” You utter.

Eventually, she pulls back again, looking up at you with disbelief still all over her face.

“B-but, how?” She asks. “Eldon…”

“Eldon lied.” You assert. “I’m fine.”

She shakes her head, furrowing her brows at you.

“No, Y/N, I heard you. I mean – back at the motel, when I was hiding, I heard you… screaming. Whatever he was doing to you… the way you sounded…” She looks deep into your eyes, her concern for you all over her face.

You tense up at her concern, and that only worsens when you notice Cass and Sam also looking at you in worry after hearing Charlie’s description.

“Yeah, okay,” You finally sigh, “The son of a bitch wasn’t exactly nice to me.”

Reluctantly, you lift your shirt and reveal your side to them. Despite the fact that Monroe did re-stitch your injuries, the traumatized flesh is bright red and raw in some places and a hideous shade of black and blue in others and – damn, does it hurt. You don’t even need to glance down at it to know how bad it is, because you can see it all over their faces as the color drains from each of them.

“Holy crap.” Charlie murmurs.

Cass just looks at you solemnly, and Sam swallows hard, both of their gazes transfixed on your side. Their worry for you makes you uncomfortable, as it always does, so you quickly pull your shirt back down to cover the injury.

“Eldon ripped out my stitches at the motel.” You say to them, looking over to Charlie. “That’s what you heard. Then, he choked me out and I couldn’t fight him anymore. Woke up at the Styne’s place and I had already been stitched up. Sick fucks wanted me in good shape before they tortured me. Then, Dean showed up. He… fought his way out and uh,” You furrow your brows and look down, still hurting from the reality of Dean leaving you behind not once, but twice in one night.

“And he left. Uh, left me. There. To go after Eldon at the bunker.” You finally say, looking back up at them.

As the details of your story sink in for all of them, you see Sam’s eyes suddenly darken, looking at you intently.

“So, you’re telling me that Dean left you, ALONE, trapped at the Styne house, in THAT condition?!” He gestures toward your injury.

“Sam…” You breathe.

“And then he put his HANDS on you, hurt you even more?! Even though he KNEW how hurt you already were?!” Sam growls.

“Sam, it’s okay.” You assure.

“Like Hell it is! How could he? I mean, to YOU?” Sam shakes his head in frustrated disbelief. It’s then that you realize he isn’t just upset about what Dean did to you. He’s upset because he knows that if Dean could do something like that to you, he’s even further gone than Sam thought he was.

“Hey Sammy it’s okay,” You repeat, trying to ground him as best you can. “I’m fine.”

He scoffs, glancing down at the spot on your side where your injury is.

“You are not fine.” He murmurs.

“I’m as fine as I’m gonna be until we get him back.” You state. “Besides, look at Cass. Dean did even worse to him than he did to me. And he did this because he isn’t Dean right now, and you know it. This thing is eating him alive, and somewhere - deep down - that kills him. I could see it in his eyes, Sam. He doesn’t want to be doing this. But he can’t stop on his own. Which is why we need that damn cure.”

With that, you look around at Sam, Cass, and Charlie.

“Looks, guys… we all know that doing this spell could have some serious consequences. We know Dean was against it because of that. And I promised him I’d back him. But he lost the right to my promises the second he threw me against that wall and left me. He needs us. Whatever awful things may come from this spell, I honestly don’t care. Not if it means I get him back. If it means WE get him back. Any objections?”

Despite the hesitation on Castiel’s face, he doesn’t object. He knows he couldn’t stop you if he tried.  
Charlie looks frightened, but determined. She nods in agreement.

Sam doesn’t say anything, he just nods as well. He doesn’t need to say anything, because you already know that he’s on the same page with you about using this spell. About doing whatever it takes to save his brother. He always has been. The two of you share knowing looks, and you both take a step toward Rowena. She looks at you, a sparkling grin on her face.

“Hello there, dear. So glad to see you’re in one piece. We had heard that wasn’t the case.”

“Well, no worries,” You quip, “I am just peachy.”

She grins at you once more before looking over at Sam excitedly.

“And Samuel? How did your little adventure go?” She asks eagerly.

Sam’s face is hard as he glares back at her.

“Not well.” He spits. “Your stupid hex bag didn’t work, Rowena. Crowley’s alive.”

Her face immediately sinks, anger and confusion sweeping over her features.

“What did you do?” She asks him pointedly.

“Me?!” Sam scoffs in annoyance. “I didn’t do anything! You screwed the hex bag up somehow!”

“Hey, hey, doesn’t matter right now.” You interject, cutting right to the chase. “Rowena, we need you to translate the spell to cure the Mark.”

She stares down at the table for a few more seconds, the news that Crowley’s still alive still sinking in. Once it does, you can see her pulling herself together as her mischievous smirk once more returns.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, sorry lovely.” She hums, looking up at you. “Truly, I do like you. But a deal is a deal. Someone has to kill my son before I’ll do anything for you.”

She emphasizes the word someone confidently, so sure that one of you will do what she demands. She continues smiling cockily at you. But when you smile back, it catches her off guard.

“Yeah, see, I’m here now.” You retort confidently. “So we’re gonna re-negotiate the terms of that little deal of yours.”

She scoffs, still smiling.

“What are you gonna do, love? You think you can just use brute force on a witch like me?”

You continue smiling, taking a step toward her.

“No, listen, Rowena, I’m not gonna torture you. I’m not gonna slice into you or beat you or use force to get you to read this spell for us. Now, don’t get me wrong, I could. I absolutely could. And when I was done with you, you’d do it, too.” Your tone is controlled, but menacing, and you can see that she feels that.

“But I won’t.” You assure. “You know why? Because I like you, too. You’re tough. I can recognize that, and I can respect it. Takes one to know one, y’know?”

She narrows her eyes at you, everyone in the room listening intently to you.

“See, torturing you like that, it’d be disrespectful.” You say. “And more importantly than that – it’d be a waste of time that I don’t have right now. So…”

You reach behind your back, taking your gun from your waistband and placing it down on the table right in front of you.

Rowena glances down at the gun quickly before looking back at you.

“Know what’s in there?” You ask.

“Well, if I had to venture to guess… I’d say witch killing bullets.” She answers, her voice purposefully casual, trying to show that she isn’t intimidated.

“You’d be right.” You confirm, unfazed by her attitude.

Sam and Cass raise their eyebrows and glance quickly at each other, both unaware you had any witch-killing bullets.

“Oh, and what? Hm?” Rowena asks, her tone almost mocking. “You’re going to kill me if I don’t do as you ask? Please, pet, I’d think we both know you won’t. You can’t. If you kill me, there’ll be no one left who can read this spell, not to mention get the ingredients just right! You need me, dear.” She finishes with a satisfied grin.

You smirk back at her, and your demeanor is unsettlingly calm.

“Sam?” You ask, your eyes never leaving Rowena.

“Yeah?” He responds.

“Remember when Metatron said we needed him? That I wouldn’t dare kill him?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“What did I do to him? Remind me.”

“You stabbed him.” Sam answers, crossing his arms and glaring at Rowena.

“Ah, right.” You whisper with a raise of your eyebrows. “And Cass?”

“Yes?”

“Remember when Lucifer tried to offer me a deal if I ratted out the boys, told me he’d give me anything I wanted if I joined him? Remember when he swore I could never beat him?”

“I remember.” Cass answers.

“Mm, and what happened to Lucifer?” You ask.

“You… hurled him back into the pit.”

“Ah.” You murmur with a nod.

Rowena watches you closely, silently.

“See, here’s something you don’t know about me.” You explain to her, your tones somehow both scornful and playful. “I have this thing about giving into the bad guys. About making deals with them. Even when maybe I should… I just can’t bring myself to do it. Because all of you powerful sons of bitches…. You think your power means you own us. You think it means you’re better than us. And because you can read that little book, you think you’re smarter than me.”

You narrow your eyes at her, leaning closer to her, your tone icy.

“You are smart, Rowena, that’s clear. I mean, you’re good. Damn good. But – dear - I’m better.”

She just stares at you for a few seconds, looking almost entranced by your intensity. She shakes that off quickly though, standing up straight and trying to mask the fact that she now seems slightly flustered. She looks around at Cass, Charlie, and Sam, who are all just watching silently. She clears her throat, her confident and charming smile once more returning.

“I don’t believe you. Killing me would be foolish. You wouldn’t really risk losing your only chance of saving your poor, dear, sweet, Dean. That would be far too reckless.”

You grin again at that, glancing over at Sam.

“Hey, Sammy, Rowena thinks I won’t kill her because it’s too ‘reckless’.”

Sam exhales a chuckle, and you look back to Rowena.

“If you knew me,” You utter, “You’d know why that’s funny.”

She swallows hard, once again disarmed by your own smile.

“Maybe you’re right.” You say suddenly. “Maybe there isn’t anyone else out there that can read this except you.”

She grins cockily again, but you raise an eyebrow at her.

“Or… maybe you’re wrong. Maybe you’re lying about how hard it is, to save your own ass. I mean, Charlie’s brilliant. So is Sam. Hell, Cass is a damn angel. Maybe we can all do it on our own.”

She furrows her brows at that, looking insulted.

“OR… maybe we can’t. Maybe we really do need an all-powerful witch.”

She smiles again, but you immediately shut her down again.

“But you’re not the only one of those, are you, Rowena? There are others. Actually, from what I’ve heard, you don’t get along with many other witches. So, maybe… we can reach out and find one of those. With our resources, I doubt it’d be that hard. And since they all hate you so much, I bet they’d help us out just to spite you.”

She tenses up at that, but you just continue. You’re toying with her now, and everyone in the room can sense it – even her.

“Or… maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe you really are the only one who can read it. And… maybe I’ll still kill you anyway. Maybe I’ll do it because I know Crowley’s pissed at us now, and killing you might get us back on his good side. Or, maybe I’ll do it on behalf of all of the innocent people I’m sure you’ve used your magic to hurt over the years. Or maybe I’ll do it because you’ve been manipulating Sam for weeks while he’s been trying to save his brother. Or maybe I’ll do it because you’ve been getting on my friend Charlie’s nerves lately. Or Hell,” You place your hands on the table and lean even closer to her now, your voice frighteningly cold, “Maybe I’ll just kill you because it’s been a rough few days and I really need to let off some steam.”

Sam, Cass, and Charlie exchange looks, the three of them almost as wide-eyed as Rowena.

“You’re bluffing.” Rowena breathes.

You exhale sharply and smirk at her.

“Am I?”

You pick up your gun, looking at it thoughtfully before looking back to her with a menacing glare, causing her to swallow hard as she looks back at you.

“You’ve been around awhile, right?” You ask. “Hundreds of years? I bet - in all that time - you’ve become pretty damn good at reading people. At figuring out their intentions, underneath all the bullshit.”

She doesn’t say anything, just narrows her eyes, silently listening to you.

“And I am telling you, if you don’t start translating this spell, right now, and translating it right… I INTEND put one right between your eyes.”

You lean closer once more, your voice now a threatening whisper, your Y/E/C eyes piercing into hers.

“Tell me, Rowena… am I bluffing?”

The air around you all is suddenly heavy with tension, the large room eerily silent. Sam, Cass, and Charlie look at each other once more, none of them saying a word.

Rowena just stares at you, studying you intently for a few more very long seconds. Your gaze is unfaltering as you glare right back at her.

Suddenly, she sighs. She looks away from you, sitting down at the table in frustrated defeat, her eyes falling onto the pages of the book in front of her.

“Well… fine.” She huffs.

You smile down at her, and despite her anger, when she looks back at you there’s a glint of a smile behind her eyes that you can only interpret as respect.

“Thank you.” You state, before turning to look at Sam, Cass, and Charlie.

All three of them look on in disbelief at your display. You don’t pay attention to that, though, already too focused on whatever the next step is to save Dean.

“We gotta talk.” You say to the three of them, nodding toward the hallway so that you can get privacy away from Rowena.

The three of them follow you out to the hall, and once out there Sam looks at you, wide-eyed.

“I didn’t know you had witch-killing bullets.” He whispers.

You smile at him.

“I don’t.”

His wide-eyed look fades to one of amusement, a look that Cass and Charlie also share.

“Damn, girl, you are good.” Charlie says with an impressed grin.

You exhale a small chuckle, but you don’t even give yourself a moment to appreciate the compliment.

“We need to find him.” You state, looking at Sam intently.

“I know.” Sam agrees.

“What will you do when you find him?” Cass asks hesitantly. “He won’t come willingly. He’s made that very clear.”

“I don’t care.” You say. “I’m not gonna stop trying. I’d rather be in danger with him than be without him. I need him to know he’s not alone. That we’re not giving up. And I wanna be with him when we do the spell.”

Cass nods in understanding, and Sam speaks up.

“The lowjack has been disabled on the Impala since he went to the Styne house. I don’t know how to track him.”

You immediately look at Charlie.

“Can you track his cell?” You ask her urgently.

She smiles at you right away.

“Hells yeah I can.”

You grin back at her. “That’s my girl.”

With that, she turns and rushes back into the room, opening her laptop and getting to work on tracking Dean’s phone.

You turn your attention back to Castiel.

“Cass, I’m sure this spell is gonna require some pretty wild ingredients. You think you’ll be able to get whatever Rowena needs?”

He nods. “I’ll do everything I can.”

You nod back in gratitude.

“Got something!” Charlie shouts from the other room.

You raise your eyebrows and the three of you head toward her.

“Already?” Sam asks.

She looks up at him. “Uh, hello, Sam? This ish is kind of my specialty.”

You grin at her, and she winks at you before going on.

“It’s gonna take a while for me to narrow down an exact location, because it looks like he turned his phone off a while ago. Probably trying to make it harder for us to track. The boy is smarter than he looks. But the last time it WAS on, he was headed toward Nebraska.”

You and Sam look at each other, sharing knowing expressions.

“Well, okay.” You say. “Charlie, good work. We’ll head in that direction. You keep us updated as you narrow it down further, okay?”

She nods at you, offering you all the support she can with her reassuring gaze. You share her stare for a few seconds before turning to Cass.

“Let us know if there are any issues with the ingredients, okay? If you need any help, or anything at all, we’ll do what we can.”

He smiles subtly at you.

“Yes. I can do that.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

With that, you turn to Sam.

“That leaves you and me, Ivy League. You ready to chase our wayward boy down yet again?”

He chuckles, nodding at you.

“Always.”

You turn and head out of the room, and the three of them watch you for a few seconds in admiration. Sam nods at Charlie and Cass once more before following you out of the room. You head out to the car and climb into the driver’s seat, and Sam gets in on the other side. You’re about to start the car when you notice him eyeing you intently.

“What?” You ask.

“Nothing, nothing.” He says. “Just… you.”

“What about me?”

“You’re just something else, that’s all. You… I don’t know what we would do without you. Seriously, this whole plan was an absolute mess just a few hours ago and now, thanks to you, it’s back on track. I mean - that’s incredible. You’re incredible.” He looks at you, his puppy dog eyes sincere. “Thank you.”

“You give me too much credit, Sammy.” You murmur, shaking your head.

“Trust me,” He chuckles, “You can never get enough credit, Y/N.”

“Well, I’ll let you give me all the credit you want once we get his ass back, how about that?” You smile at him.

The two of you look at each other, exhausted and terrified – but determined. Silently telling each other how glad you are to have each other, especially right now.

“Deal.” He says with a smile and a nod. And with that, you throw the car into reverse and head out once more after the man you love.

He groans as he peels his face from the rough carpet, blinking his eyes and furrowing his brows as consciousness reminds him of the pounding in his head. He groans again – louder, this time – as he pushes his body up off of the motel room floor and flops backwards onto the still made bed behind him. Slowly, he drags his body up into a seated position, resting his head against the wooden headboard behind him. He looks down and sees the warm, half empty beer on the nightstand beside him. He reaches out and lifts it to his chapped lips, downing the liquid that he can admit, is revolting. But he finishes all of it, deciding as he does that revolting is, after all, what he deserves.

Small streams trickle past his lips, down the sides of his mouth, and over his stubbly chin. He places the empty bottle down with a thud, using his other hand to wipe the remaining liquid from his face. He stares up at the fluorescent bulbs above him, letting the dull light illuminate the heavy bags beneath his bloodshot eyes.

“I’m good.” He grumbles to himself, the stench of his own sweaty clothing invading his nostrils as he does. “I’m good.”

He closes his eyes and leans back against the headboard once more. As soon as he does, of course, your face is the first thing he sees. It’s always the first thing he sees, like some haunting reminder of the many times he’s failed you.

And, God, has he failed you.

He wonders for a moment how long it will take for you to be okay without him. But he quickly reminds himself that you’ll be much better off without him.. You’d have been better off without him from the very beginning.

He did mean it – every time he told you how much he loved you. Every time he told you he wanted forever with you. There’s a part of him that still wants that. But that part is a naïve god damn fool, and he’s finally realizing that.

He wasn’t built for love. He wasn’t built to be the good guy. He’s just been pretending. That’s all his life has been – pretending to be a hero, when the whole time, really, he’s been the villain.

No, he’s no hero.

He knows that now. He can admit that now. He can accept that now.

He wonders if maybe you’ve finally accepted that, too.

That thought reminds him that he has a heart, because he can feel it aching when he thinks it.

Once again, the villain. So god damn selfish that he can’t even let himself imagine you moving on without him.

He wishes he could’ve fought this thing a little longer. That he could’ve had just a little more time with you. One more night, one more kiss, one more smile.

But he can’t have that. And he damn sure doesn’t deserve that. No, he can’t go back. Not now. Not ever. Not after what he’s done. Not with what he’s become.

So, he wonders, what exactly CAN he do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm so excited for what's to come.


	72. Chapter 72

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and the Reader continue their hunt for Dean, and Dean continues to fall further into the power of Mark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> Sorry it's been two weeks, to say life has been crazy would be an understatement. But I am so damn glad to be back with you.
> 
> As was probably expected, this episode starts to delve into the Season 10 finale, so it's important that you know what happens in that episode. But it obviously wouldn't be me if I didn't switch some things up, would it?
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!

You and Sam make it to Nebraska in record time. As you pull up to a motel, you smile to yourself thinking that Dean would be proud of the way you blew off every speed limit sign on the way here. Of course, you have no idea which town he’s in or how far you might still be from him. Charlie hasn’t narrowed down his location any further yet, and neither you nor Sam have heard a word from him.

Exhausted, you and Sam drag yourselves and your bags into the motel room. You sit down on the end of one bed with a sigh, and Sam does the same on the other bed. You glance at the clock and it reads 6:00am. It hits you all at once that you can’t even remember the last time you slept. When you look at Sam and see the bags under his eyes as he looks back at you, you realize it’s probably been even longer since the last time he’s slept.

“We need some shut eye, Ivy League.” You murmur.

He hesitates for a second, but then nods.

“Yeah.” He says, slowly allowing himself to lean back onto the mattress beneath him. “You’re right.”

He sighs, his eyes closing as he does, and within seconds he’s asleep. You smile at him, admiring him as he sleeps – this giant, napping baby, already beginning to snore. You laugh quietly to yourself as you realize that this man and his brother are near assassins, dangerous and prolific and terrifying to monsters everywhere – and yet to you, they’re so often just a couple of goofballs who make you smile even when you don’t want to.

You’re thankful for him. Endlessly. And you’re thankful for his brother. And despite your exhaustion, your fear, your worry – you know the three of you will get through this. You kick off your boots and lay back on your own mattress as well – staring up at the paneled ceiling of the small room. You close your eyes and picture Dean – his smile, his laugh, the crinkle in his eyes and the sparkle of his teeth. You wonder what he may be doing right now. Is he holed up in some motel room, just like this one, drinking away his anger and his pain? Is he driving down the highway, away from you, running from the monster he’s so sure he’s become? Has he begun a murderous rampage, just like Cain, no longer able to fight the Mark at all?

Does he actually think there’s anything he could do that would make you give up on him?

The last question hurts, because you can’t bring yourself to imagine the possibility that he does. As the questions swirl and the exhaustion weighs, your breathing begins to steady and your body sinks further into the blanket beneath you. Before you know it you’re drifting off as well, remembering a time when the man you love would’ve been right here next to you.

You and Sam both wake to the sound of his phone ringing.

The two of you sit up suddenly, glancing at each other in anticipation as he pulls it from his pocket. You see a look of disappointment on his face, and you know right away it can’t be Dean. He sighs before answering the phone and holding it to his ear.

“Yeah, hey, Rudy, look-"

Suddenly, he stops talking and his eyes go wide.

“He is?” He asks breathlessly.

You move yourself closer to the edge of the bed, your eyes now wide as well as you anxiously wait to hear whatever is going on on the other end of the line.

“O-okay, yeah, Rudy, I hear you. I’m sorry. He’s been… going through some stuff.”

More silence.

“Y-yeah, absolutely. And where exactly are you?”

More silence.

“Got it. Yeah. I’ll handle it. Thanks, Rudy.”

With that, Sam ends the call and stares at you.

“Well?” You demand.

“That was Rudy. A hunter friend of ours. He’s on a case here in Nebraska. A case that Dean is on, too.”

You furrow your brows as the information sinks in.

“He’s hunting?” You ask quietly.

“Apparently.” Sam answers. “Rudy says it’s a real simple vamp hunt. Easy. But, of course, he says Dean’s been… less than pleasant to work with.”

You scoff. “Yeah. No shit.”

“Rudy told me where the case is. Only about an hour from us.” Sam states as he stands. “He’s gonna text me the exact address where he thinks the vamps are holed up. He doesn’t know where Dean’s staying so that’s as close an exact address for Dean as we’re gonna get.”

You nod up at him purposefully. Nothing else needs to be said.

There’s no discussion necessary. You’re going after him, and you both know it.

Sure, ambushing Dean during a hunt might be risky. But it’s not as risky as letting him run around killing - alone - with that thing on his arm.

Sam heads into the bathroom to change, and you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

You’re somehow both relieved and sad that Dean’s hunting. And it’s because you know why he’s doing it.

He’s still trying to kill the bad guys, instead of being one. He’s still himself in there, somewhere.  
And of course that’s a relief.

But it’s also heartbreaking. If he is still self-aware – still himself, somewhere - then you know he must be aware of what he’s done. Of how he left Cass, and Sam, and you. It breaks your heart to imagine a new level of self-loathing, even for him. He’s alone. He’s defeated.

And even though he wouldn’t admit it, he’s terrified.

And when Dean Winchester is scared, all bets are off on what he might do.

You and Sam quickly get yourselves ready and head out of the motel room. This time Sam drives, and the two of you head in the direction of the address Rudy texted to Sam.

The closer you get, though, the more your gut tells you that something’s wrong. That something happened. You don’t know why. Maybe your tendency to get into trouble gives you a sense for when it’s close. Or maybe it’s just that damn connection you have with Dean. But something is pulling at you right now, and you can’t deny it.

“Sam, maybe we should split up.” You say suddenly.

Sam glances at you, raising his eyebrows.

You look over at him, your face honest.

“I know what you’re gonna say. That splitting up is a bad idea. That it never works for us. And I’m not even gonna waste my breath telling you that you’re wrong. Because you’re not. But there’s a chance he’s not at this address. I mean, he might have already been there. Or Rudy might be wrong. What if he’s already getting ready to leave Nebraska? What if he has an idea we’re coming? I cannot let him get away again, Sam. I cannot spend months running around the country searching for him again. And I know you can’t, either.”

Sam looks solemn as he listens to you. You can see the hesitation on his face, but you can see that he also knows you’re right.

“I know splitting up usually ends bad. Usually for me.” You say with a cynical chuckle. “But, I don’t care. I am willing to take that risk for him. We know if he’s in the area, he’s gotta be staying somewhere, right? Why don’t I scope out local motels and you go meet Rudy. If Dean’s there, great. If not, lucky Rudy because he gets help on this hunt from the other incredible Winchester. You find him, you call me. I find him, I call you. Okay?”

Sam glances at you as he drives, the hesitation still evident, but your face is determined. And when you’re determined, he knows he can’t say no to you. Even if he wants to.

“Fine.” He sighs, pulling over in front of a store in the busy little town you’re driving through. You know he knows you’ll easily pick up a car and make your way around from there. And a busy town is the perfect place to start scoping out local dives and motels Dean might be hanging in.

Sam looks over at you, his face tender and concerned.

“Y/N…”

You smirk at him.

“Ah, save it, Sammy. I’ll be careful if you will.” You say with a wink.

And despite his worry, your charm makes him smile. It always does.

“See you soon.” He states, emphasizing the ‘soon’.

“See you soon.” You repeat back with a nod, before opening the car door and getting out. He looks at you thoughtfully for a few more seconds before hesitantly pulling away.

You take a deep breath and pull out your phone, immediately looking up motels in the area. You find three. One is near a liquor store, one is near a church, and one is near a bar.

You eliminate the one by the church, for obvious reasons.

The Dean you know would have chosen the motel near the bar. Quick access to burgers and music and booze. So that would be the obvious choice, right?

No.

No, the Dean you know might have chosen that one. But the Dean with the Mark… he wouldn’t risk being in a place that public. Being around people who he could hurt. And he wouldn’t let himself experience the joys of burgers and music. Not when he thinks he doesn’t even deserve them.  
But the booze… that he’d do.

So the motel by the liquor store it is.

You find a quiet back street and grab a car, once more chasing after Dean. And damn, you are getting sick of having to do that. But yet, you know you’ll chase him for the rest of your life if you have to.

You just hope you won’t have to.

He grips the cool porcelain of the sinks as he stares down at the running water in front of him, his mind running through the events of the past few hours.

Rudy’s dead. He watched the vamp shove that knife into his chest.

No, he didn’t just watch. He MADE the vamp shove that knife into his chest.

But Rudy had it coming. Dean told him to back off and he didn’t. He should’ve just gotten the Hell out of Dean’s way. It’s his own god damn fault.

Right?

Wrong.

He was a hunter. Just doing his job. Maybe not doing it very well, but that sure as Hell didn’t mean he deserved to die.

Dean’s knuckles go white as he grips the sink even more tightly, swallowing down the lump in his throat, his eyes still transfixed on the water running in front of him.

Rudy’s dead because of him.

He’s a god damn killer.

He squeezes his eyes closed, leaning forward suddenly and splashing the cold water over his face. He does this a few times, feebly attempting to let the dirty water wash away the stain of his grimy soul.

He stands once more, the water dripping down his hardened face and off of his thick eyelashes. He opens his eyes slowly, anticipating the nausea that he knows will come along with seeing his own face. But when he does open them, he doesn’t see his own face.

He sees Rudy’s.

Bloody, and terrified, and angry.

He looks down suddenly with a gasp, trying to shake away the sight. But when he looks back up, it still isn’t his own face he sees.

Now it’s Cass, looking beaten and betrayed.

Dean tenses further, once again looking away suddenly. He furrows his brows, terrified to look again but knowing that he needs to. That he deserves to.

His green eyes flick to the mirror, and his stomach sinks when he sees exactly what he knew he would.

You.

Tears in your eyes, clutching your chest as the blood runs past your fingers.

He stares into your beautiful eyes, tears forming in his own as he recalls the day he killed you with his own two hands.

He should’ve known back then that he was too toxic. He should never have let himself think that he had a chance at happiness with you after that moment. He should never have let himself think that he DESERVED a chance at happiness.

He blinks away his tears, and then it’s his own reflection staring back at him once again. And honestly, it’s the one that disgusts him the most.

His jaw begins to quiver as he looks at himself, hating every wrinkle and pore and freckle.

He’s a failure. A killer.

A monster.

His fist flies suddenly, connecting with the mirror and shattering it. He feels the glass tear into his knuckles, and immediately welcomes the feeling. His blood drips onto the white sink and his chest heaves as he once again sees at his own broken reflection. He growls in hatred, gripping the sink and yanking, tearing it from the wall and throwing it onto the ground, the porcelain shattering into millions of tiny pieces.

He kicks down the door of the bathroom, ripping it off of its hinges as he does. He stomps into the main room, grabbing the television from the dresser and lifting it over his head as if it weighs nothing at all. With another loud growl, he brings it down onto the floor in front of him, the screen cracking as it slides across the room.

It’s not enough though, and his wild eyes land on the dresser next to his bed, stacked to the edge with empty bottles of liquor and beer. He heaves his body toward them, sweeping them off the dresser and across the room with both of his heavy arms. The glass pops and shatters as it hits the walls and the ground and the table, raining down onto the floor.

He lifts the mattress, flinging it across the room and knocking the lamp off the dresser as he does. He kicks the wooden bedframe until it breaks, and then he grabs a piece of the broken wood and lifts it over his head, slamming it down onto the already destroyed TV until the wood splinters in his hands and flies across the room.

When the room is hardly a semblance of the room it was before, he finally stops. His whole body shakes, his chest heaves, his terrified and angry green eyes bouncing around the room as he falls to his knees among the wreckage he’s created.

He furrows his brows, his jaw quivering, as he begins to lose his footing and drown in the power of the Mark. He’s been fighting so hard, for so long to keep from becoming what Cain was. He shakes his head, his mind desperately searching for something, anything to keep himself together.

But it’s useless. Because he knows the one and only thing that could keep him together. And he can’t have it. He can’t have her. She’s not here.

You’re not here.

Because he hurt you, he pushed you away, he left you behind yet again. You’re the only thing that could save him in this moment, but he left you behind.

Because he doesn’t deserve to be saved.

He closes his eyes, feeling his head finally slipping all the way under.

But then, there’s a knock at the door.

His eyes snap open, confusion and caution all over his face. Slowly, he stands, grabbing his gun from beneath the shattered glass on the table and making his way to the door. He grips his gun tightly with one hand, and hesitantly opens the door with the other.

And there you are.

His eyes widen and he exhales suddenly in disbelief. His eyes become immediately glassy, and he feels the tension falling out of his muscles. He didn’t expect you to be here. He thought that maybe, finally, he’d pushed you far enough way. That he’d hurt you one too many times. He breathes in shakily, and it feels as if it’s the first breath he’s taken since he last saw you.

Still, he knows you shouldn’t be here. You don’t deserve the pain he will inevitably put you through and he doesn’t deserve the relief that he feels at the sight of your flawless face. He knows he will have to run away from you again. To leave you behind again. It’s the only way to keep you safe from him.

But despite that, he can’t deny the way his heart skips when you look into his eyes and open those perfect lips.

“Hi, Winchester.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! And seriously, seriously, thank you for all the feedback you guys give me. You'll never know how much it always means to me.


	73. Chapter 73

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How will Dean react, now that the Reader's caught up with him once more?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> I figured we could all use a new chapter before the new episode tonight. And we could definitely use one after last weeks. And that's all I'm sayin' about that.
> 
> I love you guys, I hope you enjoy.

“Hi, Winchester.”

You smile at him gently as you say it, and he just exhales once more. His lips are parted but no words come out. He looks surprised. And even though it looks like he’s trying to hide it, he looks happy. Or at least as happy as he is capable of being right now.

He also looks awful.

The bags under his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them. The bright green of his irises is accentuated by the redness of his eyes. He smells like booze. And B.O. And rage.  
And despite that, all you can think is that he’s absolutely beautiful.

The sight of him, even in this shape, still makes your heart flutter the same way it always has.

You take a small step closer to him, and he immediately steps back. There’s a look of complete and utter shame suddenly all over his face, and it’s only then that you become aware of the rest of your surroundings.

You look down at his bleeding knuckles, and from there your eyes drift around the rest of the ruined room surrounding him. He tenses up and clenches his jaw as he watches you take it all in. The first thing you notice is the glass, everywhere. Shards from liquor and beer bottles litter the floor, the small table, the dresser. The mattress is in the corner of the room, and what was once the bed frame is broken into at least a dozen pieces, splintered wood accompanying the glass all over the floor. The old TV is smashed apart, lying in a heap of plastic and wires. You walk past Dean, deeper into the room, and see the bathroom door broken nearly in half, the hinges busted beyond repair. As you get closer to the bathroom, it’s then that you see the shattered mirror and sink, and the blood all over both of them. You take a deep breath, your heart aching as you imagine the level of pain it took for Dean to do this. You turn around slowly, and see him still standing by the door, his body tensed and his eyes cast down shamefully to his boots.

“It’s okay.” You say right away, walking back over to him. “Not the first hotel room we’ve ruined, and it won’t be the last.” You chuckle, trying to ease the tension you can see on every inch of his body.

It doesn’t work.

He looks up at you, his brow furrowed, the danger once again lacing his pained eyes.

“’We’?” He asks.

“Yeah, ‘we’, tough guy.” You say back.

“This wasn’t ‘we’.” He nearly growls. “This was me.”

“Well, your mess is my mess, pal.” You state back with a smirk.

He looks at you in quiet disbelief, exhaling sharply and shaking his head.

“What?” You ask.

“Why are you here, huh? After everything. After all I’ve done. Why are you still here?”

The question hurts, but it doesn’t surprise you. You take a step closer to him, looking into his eyes earnestly.

“I told you, I’m never giving up on you.” You study him intently as you go on. “And neither is Sam. Don’t you get that? We love you, Dean.”

He looks as though he’s softening slightly, but as you keep talking he tenses up again.

“Sam got a call from your friend, Rudy. About the vamp hunt you guys were on. The second we heard from him we came right after you, okay? Sam went to meet him, hoping he’d find you there. He’ll never give up, Dean. All we need to do it tell him where we are, and-"

“No.” Dean says.

Your furrow your brows at him, and you see the sudden panic all over his face. Immediately, you know it has something to do with Rudy and you instantly regret saying anything about that. You can tell something went wrong with the hunt. It would explain why Dean came back here and completely broke down. You don’t know what happened, but you can tell from the guilt all over Dean’s face, that things probably didn’t go well for Rudy.

You swallow hard.

“Just… tell me Sam isn’t walking into a trap.” You murmur.

Dean shakes his head.

“Sammy’s fine. He’s not walking into anything except a crime scene. Vamps are dead.” He pauses for a second. “So is Rudy.”

You heart sinks slightly. You never met Rudy, but anytime a hunter dies on the job it hurts a little. And beyond that, the fact that it may have happened because of Dean hurts, too.

“Okay.” You say calmly. “It’s okay. We’re just gonna call Sam and he’s gonna come here and we will take it from there, okay?”

“No.” Dean repeats, grabbing your phone from your hand.

You look at him, your eyes pleading.

“Dean, please… Sammy wants to help. We have a plan.”

Dean scoffs, his eyes getting colder by the second.

“What, the Book of the Damned? You really think that’s gonna work?” He asks, his tone almost mocking. “No, Sam’s not comin’ here. And you’re not stayin’.”

The sharpness of his tone cuts into you, but before you have a chance to react to it, he’s grabbing your forearm and pulling you toward the door. You quickly squirm out of his grasp, pulling away from him and looking intensely at him.

“Oh, I’m not leaving.” You state confidently.

“Ah, come on, Y/N, don’t do this again. Just let me go.”

He sounds cold and uncaring as he talks to you. But you can also see that he’s TRYING to sound that way. That he’s trying to convince not only you – but also himself – that he doesn’t want you here. That you shouldn’t be here.

And you know that he can’t control the Mark. You know that he’s exhausted from fighting for so long. You know that he believes that he’s doing this to keep you safe. But despite all of that, you’re pissed off.

You’re pissed because you have continued to prove to this man, time and time again, how much you love him, and he still thinks you could ever give up on him. You’re pissed because you have literally given your life for him and his brother - and would do it again in a heartbeat - and he still thinks you could ever give up on him. You’re fucking pissed because you’re here, right now, telling him that you WON’T, and he still thinks you could ever give up on him.

“No.” You grit back.

He groans in impatience and reaches for you again, this time grabbing you by the bicep and practically pushing you into the door. You pull away once more, your frustration bubbling, and shove him away from you. The shove pisses the Mark off, and you can see it on his face as his eyes darken further.

“What the Hell is wrong with you, hm?” He asks, tilting his head and taking a menacing step toward you. “You’re really so damaged that you let me keep treatin’ you like shit and you’ll just stand there and take it?”

There’s the slightest flash of regret and guilt in his eyes for a split second after he says it, but that goes away quickly. He’s determined to do whatever it takes to push you away at this point, even if he’s saying things that he doesn’t mean and that he knows will hurt you.

You scoff, your eyes narrowing at him.

“Takes damage to recognize damage, baby.” You sneer.

He takes another large and swift step closer to you, his chest heaving with anger.

“Oh, what are you gonna do? You gonna hit me, tough guy?!” You yell at him, despite the fact that his face is only inches from yours.

He glares down at you, looking as though he’s fighting with every fiber in his being to control himself.

“Will you finally leave me the fuck alone if I do?” He asks cruelly.

You slap him.

You don’t mean to, not really. It just happens. All of your frustration and rage and pain and exhaustion explode out of you and you just do it. His head snaps to the side for a second, but he doesn’t look startled in the least. He just clenches his jaw and turns his heads slowly back to you, and it would be a damn lie if you told yourself that the look in his eyes didn’t scare you in this moment.

Suddenly, he throws your phone onto the ground, grabs you by the shoulders, and moves forward, practically dragging you backward before shoving you into the dresser behind you. The glass crunches beneath his heavy boots and clinks against the ground as pieces fall from the dresser that your body is now pressed against. He glares down at you, and you glare right back up at him, your own chest now heaving at the same pace as his.

That’s it, you’re both going for it now.

An angry growl rips from your throat as you swing at him again. But this time he blocks your blow, grabbing your wrist and twisting until your spun around, your back now to him. He grabs your hair but you elbow him in the gut, and he lets out a breathless “oof” as he releases you. You spin back around shove him once more, causing him to stumble backward a couple feet. Before he can react, you’re running at him. But he dodges you, grabbing you by the waist and pushing you away.

You go on this way for a few more moments. You’re full-blown fighting, and yet neither one of you are really trying to hurt each other. You’re so much on the same wavelength, you’re matching each other move for move. It’s just consistent ducking and dodging and grabbing and shoving between exasperated growls, but nothing more than that. Finally, he shoves you back into the dresser once more, and the two of you stare at each other, breathless.

“I told you to go.” He huffs callously.

“Fuck you.” You seethe.

Despite everything, he looks almost offended by that.

“Fuck me?”

“Yeah, fuck you, Dean. Fuck you for making me fall in love with you. Fuck you for being so brave, and kind, and funny. Fuck you for having great taste in cars, and liquor, and music. Fuck you for those green eyes. Fuck you for becoming the only thing in my life that has ever really, truly made me feel okay. Fuck you for giving me a home, and a future, and a purpose. Fuck you for all of it.”

Your voice is shaking and your throat is burning, and he can see it.

“Fuck you… because you gave me a greater life than I would have ever let myself even begin to hope for, and now you’re trying to take it away.”

You see the hurt in his eyes now as he looks back at you.

“You think I want this?!” He roars. “I’m just trying to tell you that you deserve better!”

“Don’t you get it, you son of a bitch?!” You shout. “There is nothing and no one out there for me that could ever be better than you!”

You’re loud and angry and your voice cracks as you scream at him. His stare is still intense but he can’t think of anything else to say. It wouldn’t matter if he could, because you’re not done.

“I want you, demon and all. I want you, Mark and all. Hell, you could turn out just like Cain and I’d still fucking want you, Dean!”

You start walking toward him, your gaze unfaltering.

“I know it’s not rational. Or sensible. Or sane. But I don’t care! Because this thing, between us, it’s beyond all that. It’s beyond fucking sanity or sensibility. And You. Fucking. Know it!”

You shove him with both hands as you spit the last of your words out, and he suddenly grabs both of your wrists and holds them tightly in front of you, his eyes piercing into yours.

You stare at each other, the air heavy, your chests heaving and your eyes brimming with rage and passion and intensity.

And it’s as if a switch clicks in both of you at the exact same time.

He throws your arms around his neck and you clutch onto him, leaping into his arms as his hands reach around and dig roughly into your ass to hold you close to him. Your lips connect with an almost painful force as you melt into a sloppy and desperate kiss. Your teeth and tongues and bodies collide all at once, and you’re huffing into each other’s open mouths in between moans and growls and kisses.

You’re gripping each other brutally, undoubtedly creating bruises on each other. He walks forward toward the table, still holding you with one arm and using the other to swipe across the top of the table, sending more glass shards flying off onto the floor. He slams you down hard onto the tabletop, and you groan in both pain and pleasure as his hands roam roughly all over your body. You tug at the hem of his sweaty gray t-shirt, nearly tearing it off of him as you yank it off over his head hurriedly.

He does the same for you, furiously throwing your discarded shirt and bra into a pile on the ground next to you. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, the both of you feverishly grinding into each other and feeling the heat spread between you. You tighten your grip, grinding even harder, and he grabs a handful of your hair, yanking your head back and growling into your ear before latching his lips roughly onto your neck.

You moan in desperation, digging your nails into the warm flesh of his back as he sucks and bites at your pulse point. You’re both panting hard, unable to pause or think or even breathe right now. You drag one hand up his back, locking your fingers into his ruffled hair and yanking his head back so that you can look into his lustful, maddened eyes. The two of you may have shifted from fighting to making love, but the energy between you hasn’t shifted. There is still an incensed passion fueling the both of you. And right now, your hunger for each other is all-consuming.

He lunges forward, pressing his open mouth against yours once more. His tongue delves into your mouth at the same time his hands fly to the button of your jeans. He lifts you with one hand as he drags your jeans and panties off with the other, before slamming you back down onto the table once more.

You groan at the impact, but it dissolves into another loud moan as he once again bites at the same spot on your neck, leaving his mark there. You reach down and quickly unbutton his jeans, shoving them down his legs along with his boxers. The second he’s freed from them, you wrap your hand around his length, unable to go another second without feeling him.

He hisses loudly at the sensation, furrowing his brows and digging his fingers into your hips on either side. He forcefully drags you closer to him, until you’re sitting at the very edge of the table, your legs still firmly wrapped around him. He pulls his head back, allowing himself to look into your eyes. His gaze is feverish and full of desire, and as he looks at you, you still aren’t sure if he wants to fuck you or devour you whole.

But you don’t care.

You’re looking back at him exactly the same way. Your core is aching for him, your whole body pulsating with your need to feel him inside you. The heat in the air is dizzying, and you know right then that neither of you can wait another second.

With that, he lines himself up with your entrance and immediately snaps his hips, all at once filling you completely. You don’t even try to bite back the scream of pleasure that escapes your lips, the heat of him inside of you so gratifying it’s almost unbearable.

He growls out as well, just as loudly as you, as he feels you squeeze around him. You tighten the grip of your legs and dig your nails into his biceps, roughly pressing your forehead against his as his fingertips dig even deeper into your hips. He stills for only half a second before pulling out and snapping his hips once more, immediately finding his ruthless pace inside of you.

You moan as he moves in and out of you, hitting your sweet spot roughly yet perfectly every single time. You feel light-headed, the heat pooling in your belly now beginning to spread throughout the rest of you. You can hear the table creaking beneath you and his skin slapping against yours and his exasperated pants as he thrusts into you over and over.

He picks up his pace and you moan at the feeling, dragging your nails up over his shoulders and tangling your fingers once more tightly into his hair. He lets out another carnal growl, one hand now roughly gripping your ass and the other moving up, until he’s digging his own nails into your upper back.

You’re intoxicated by the sticky heat of his skin as it pushes against you, his forehead still firmly pressed to yours as his he moves mercilessly inside of you. All at once, your orgasm builds to a peak, and you moan out his name harshly and breathlessly, clenching around him as you do.

He groans out loudly and grips you even tighter as he feels you squeeze around him, his throat sounding raspy and raw as his own orgasm hits him suddenly. He continues his thrusting, roughly slamming his hips into yours as you both quake and tremble through the fiery high.

Finally, he slows, huffing and panting hoarsely as he slowly releases you and pulls back to look at you, pulling himself out of you at the same time. Your chest is heaving and your own throat feels dry and raw as you look back at him, your body still shuddering.

You look at each other for a little while, just silently taking each other in. As you look at him, all that anger you had for him fades away. Somehow, you know that he finally understands now. You know he can finally feel that you’ll never give up on him. Eventually, you stand on shaky legs and grab your clothing, dragging your jeans back on and throwing your t-shirt on quickly. You look up at him, gazing into his green eyes once more.

“I love you.” You utter.

He looks down at you.

“I love you, too.” He rasps.

Your stomach flips. You truly didn’t know if he’d say it back. If he could. And even though you know nothing is fixed, it still feels so good to hear. You smirk subtly at him as he buttons his jeans back up.

“I’m going to the bathroom quickly.” You state. “Don’t even think about trying to run away from me again. The bathroom door is cracked in half so I will hear your ass.”

He doesn’t laugh, he just looks at you thoughtfully and nods. But you take that as an agreement, and you turn and head for the bathroom. As you do, you can’t help but think about the way he looked at you as he pulled himself out of you.

He looked in awe of you, but there were also a thousand other expressions crossing his features at the same time. He looked confused, and strangely hopeful, yet incredibly sad.  
He looked like he’d experienced more emotion in that moment than he had in a very long time.

And he looked that way because it’s the truth.

As he pulled out of you, all he could think was that he wishes he lived in a world that would allow him to stay inside you forever, because he’s certain he’s never experienced a greater ecstasy.

He looked at you – flushed and breathless and unfuckingbelievably beautiful, and he felt awestruck. He believes it now. You’ll never give up on him. Never leave him or let him leave you. Even when you should.

He loves you.

He’s confused, because he was already so sure that he was so far gone, so past being able to feel his love for you. And yet here he is, looking at you and feeling it.

God, does he love you.

And he’s sad. He’s heartbroken. Because he knows what he needs to do. He knows that no matter how much he loves you, this Mark will consume him one way or another. This Mark almost killed Cass. This Mark killed Rudy. This Mark could someday kill you.

Yeah, he loves you.

But that isn’t enough.

It’s not enough to keep you safe from him. It’s not enough to keep the rest of the world safe from him. The only way for you, or Sammy, or the rest of the world to be safe is for him to be gone.

Not just on the run.

But really, truly gone.

And it kills him to admit to himself, especially with how deceptively hopeful he feels every time he looks at you. But it’s time. It’s time for him to do what he’s known needs to be done for a while.

You come out of the bathroom, smiling at Dean expectantly when he’s already standing there waiting for you.

“What is it, Winchester?” You ask.

“We gotta go.” He says firmly.

You furrow your brows.

“And where are we going?”

He looks at you solemnly, and all hints of playfulness fall away from your face when he does. He doesn’t say what he’s planning out loud, but somehow he knows that you’re beginning to figure him out.

“Dean… whatever you’re planning, please don’t.”

“I get it now.” He says. “I know now, that nothing will ever keep you away from me. Make you give up. You, darlin’, are like a dog with a bone. Stubborn as Hell.” There’s a saddened admiration in his eyes as he looks at you. “And you got no idea how much that means to me. You really don’t. You're right... this thing between us, it's stronger than anything I've ever known. I mean, Hell, it's destiny. Which is why I can’t just leave you again. I know that now. ”

“Dean…”

"I… I got a plan. I’ve had one for awhile now. One that you won’t like. You won’t like it, but it’ll keep you safe once I do it. But I won’t leave you behind while I do it. Leavin’ you won’t do a damn thing, because you will always find me and always find some way to stop me. So, I won’t leave you, Gorgeous. Not again. I’m takin’ you with me. Because keepin’ an eye on you is the only way I can make sure your stubborn ass doesn’t screw my plan up.” He finishes with an apologetic chuckle, laced with regret and remorse as his glistening green eyes look at you lovingly.

“No.” You shake your head. “Whatever kind of kamikaze mission it is, I won’t let you. And I won’t go anywhere without at least talking to Sam. I won’t.”

“Sweetheart,” He rasps, taking a large step toward you and looking down at you fiercely, “I wasn’t askin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much for reading! I hope you liked it.


	74. Chapter 74

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How will the Reader react to Dean's plan... and will she be able to stop it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> How is everyone doing? Okay, stupid question, I know we're not okay. I'm sure as Hell not.
> 
> But I'm here for you guys. And we will get through it together. And I have a nice, long chapter for you guys that will hopefully help.
> 
> Love you all!

“Sweetheart, I wasn’t askin’.”

You glare up at him.

“You’re gonna have to make me, then.”

A smile forms on the corner of his dark eyes and he chuckles.

“Fine.” He says with a cocky shrug.

In a flash he’s got you spun around with your wrists behind your back, and for a second it makes you wonder if he was taking it easy on you earlier. He handcuffs you, spinning you back around and looking down at you with a smug grin that you would find adorable in any other circumstance.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” You huff. “What, you think you’re just gonna walk out of here with a girl in handcuffs and no one will think twice?”

“Well, I do have my badges,” He answers calmly, “So as far as anyone’s concerned, you are a felon in my custody.”

You glare up at him.

“Yeah? Well, what if I scream and tell everyone you’re kidnapping me?”

“Well, then, Sweetheart,” He responds with a smirk, “I’ll gag you.”

You can’t deny the flip of your stomach at that, and he says it as he reaches into your pockets and pulls out anything you might be able to use as a lock pick. You breathe shakily as his large hands trail your body, despite how annoyed you are by him.

When he’s satisfied, he grabs your upper arm firmly, grabs his bag, and walks you outside, quickly shoving you into the passenger seat of Baby through the driver’s side door and then hopping in himself.

“Well,” You croon, “Of all the ways I imagined you’d handcuff me, this was definitely not one of the fantasies.”

He groans subtly, deep in his throat, and looks at you, a warning in his eyes.

“Don’t even start.” He utters before starting the car.

As he starts to drive, you’re immediately assessing your surroundings.

You don’t have access to your other lock picks in this position. You can’t pop your thumb out of place because he made these cuffs so damn tight that even doing that wouldn’t be enough to slip out of them.

You could twist your arms around enough to open the door and throw yourself out, and just hope the landing isn’t too bad.

But you don’t really wanna do that.

You could kick him, or the steering wheel, and make him crash the car to allow yourself a chance to escape.

But crash THIS car? No, you’d never do that.

Maybe there’s no way out of this right now. But maybe even if there was, you wouldn’t take it. Because you can’t let him go yet.

And he knows it.

The drive isn’t long, maybe only 45 minutes or so, until you’re pulling up outside some closed down Mexican restaurant in the middle of nowhere. You look around, confused, and then your eyes land on him.

“This is where your big plan is supposed to take place?”

He doesn’t say anything, he just gets out of the car and comes around to open your door. You look up at him hesitantly, and you see him trying his hardest not to look you in the eye as he grips your arm and pulls you out, walking you through the door of the little restaurant. He walks you up to a wooden chair, looking down at you once he gets you in front of it.

“Have a seat.” He commands.

You scoff at him.

“You really expect me to make it that easy for you?”

He scoffs back.

“No, darlin’, I don’t.”

He swiftly kicks his own leg beneath yours, causing you to fall backward without your arms to balance you. Before you fall completely, though, he wraps his arms around your back and catches you, holding you fully in his grasp. His face is only inches from yours, his tongue darting over his soft lips as his green eyes study your face. Your heart starts racing a little faster, and for a second you’re completely lost in him.

But then the reality of the situation crashes down on you again, and you break your gaze from his.

“Tease.” You mutter.

He eases you down into the seat, quickly coming behind you and hooking your cuffs around the back of the chair, ensuring that you can’t stand up or get out of the chair at all. You tug at the cuffs and then glare at him as he comes back around.

“Is this seriously necessary?” You demand. “It’s just me.”

He chuckles quietly – and, despite everything - the crinkles around his eyes make your heart flutter.

“It’s seriously necessary BECAUSE it’s you, Sweetheart.” He drawls.

He’s still charming, that’s for sure. But that coldness is still there behind his eyes. This time it’s not enraged or wild, it’s resigned. And that worries you in a whole different way.

He heads to the kitchen of the restaurant, bustling around back there for a while, leaving you to wonder what the Hell it is that he’s doing. Eventually, he emerges with a tray full of food, placing it down on the counter a few feet from you.

“Gee, thanks, handsome, but I’m not really in the mood for a date right now.” You state with an annoyed smirk, despite the fact that you know whatever that is, it isn’t for you.

“It’ll make him more likely to listen to whatever I have to say. He loves food. Especially the greasy kind.” Dean states as he begins to gather up ingredients and work on a spell right in front of you.

You furrow your brows.

“…Who?”

He doesn’t answer. Typical. He just continues working on the spell, reciting some Latin, slicing his palm, and dripping his blood onto the other ingredients. Suddenly, the lights begin popping and flickering around the big room. The whole room seems to shake for a few long seconds. When it’s done, he looks at you. You look back at him, confused and on edge.

Seconds later, you hear a voice behind Dean.

“Dean Winchester. Why is it that whenever I’m summoned, it seems to be by you?”

Dean whips around, and it’s then that you see him. A pale, thin man with sharp features and an even sharper glare. Suddenly, his eyes dart from Dean to the tray of food Dean had set on the counter.

“Don’t tell me that’s queso.”

Dean glances over to the tray, and when his body finally catches up with his mind, he’s rushing over to it and grabbing it for whoever this strange man is.

“Uh, y-yes. Queso and taquitos and tamales.” He brings the tray over to the man, allowing him to grab whatever he wants. “All made by yours truly.”

You look on quizzically, wondering who in the Hell this man could possibly be to have Dean Winchester practically bowing down to him. The man grabs one of the many items, taking a bite and nodding in approval of Dean’s work.

“And what might this be for?” He asks.

“Consider it an offering.” Dean states seriously.

“For?” The man asks again.

Without hesitation, Dean responds.

“I want you to kill me.”

It’s not as if that surprises you, and yet it still makes your stomach jump to your throat.

“No!” You shout, tugging at the cuffs behind you.

It’s as if the man now notices you for the first time. He looks at you, raises his eyebrows, then looks back to Dean.  
“It’s rude not to introduce people, you know.” He scolds.

“Uh, right, sorry.” Dean answers. “This is Y/N. Y/N… this is Death.”

Now, your stomach drops from your throat to your feet.

Death?

Death?!

This is bad. Really god damn bad.

“Pleasure, Y/N.” Death states.

“Hi.” You murmur, too stunned to answer in any other way right now.

He nods to you, then looks back at Dean.

“Do you know what I find interesting, Dean? Is that we both know I’ve been burned by you Winchesters before. Why would I want to help you again now?” He asks.

“Because this time is different.” Dean urges. “No tricks. No second-guessing.”

Death looks less than convinced, and that’s when Dean extends his arm to show off the Mark.

“I know you know what this is.” He states, pointing to it.

You see Death’s expression change. He looks genuinely surprised, a look you’re sure he doesn’t have very often.  
“I’ve tried to fight this. I’ve done everything I can.” Dean says, sounding tired. “Hell, if it wasn’t for that one over there I would’ve already given in.” He nods to you. “But I can’t fight it forever. Even with her. So, I got nothin’ else. I got no moves left - except you.”

Death thinks for a second, before sitting on a stool and eyeing Dean almost smugly.

“Well, I never thought I’d see the day. Dean Winchester has tipped over his king.” He states in satisfaction. “But, I won’t kill you Dean.”

With that, you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding in.

“That Mark on your arm is the First Curse, Dean. Even I can’t kill you.”

The relief you feel is undeniable, despite the look of disappointment on Dean’s face.

“Okay, well forget killing me, then.” Dean says. “Can you get rid of it?”

“I could.” Death answers.

Dean waits a second.

“But…?”

“Creatio ex nihilo.” Death explains. “God created the earth out of nothing -- or so your Sunday-school teacher would have you believe.”

“What, so Genesis is a lie, huh?” Dean scoffs. “Shocker.”

This whole time, you’re looking on in utter worry and confusion. They’re talking as if you’re not even here, and you’re not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Death stands from his stool, looking at Dean seriously.

“Before there was light, before there was God and the archangels, there wasn't nothing. Something existed. Do you know what that was, Dean?”

Dean just looks on in anticipation, subtly shaking his head no, and Death goes on.

“It was the Darkness. A horribly destructive, evil force that had could only be stopped by God and all of his archangels. God locked the Darkness away where it could do no harm, and he created a Mark that would serve as both lock and key, which he entrusted to his favorite son, Lucifer. But the Mark began to assert its own will, revealed itself as a curse, and began to corrupt. Lucifer became jealous of man. God banished Lucifer to Hell. Lucifer passed the Mark to Cain, who passed the Mark to you. Do you understand?”

Dean just stands there, allowing it all to sink in for a moment.

“Well, that is just fan-friggin-tastic, isn't it?” He scoffs again, exasperated.

It’s all only just beginning to sink in for you, too. The Darkness. You’ve never heard of it, but it sounds next-level unpleasant. And the more you think about it, the more you realize why the Book of the Damned has a spell for removing the Mark. Because using that spell, getting rid of the Mark, would release the Darkness into the world. Exactly the kind of serious consequence the Stynes said would come from using it.

“So,” Death continues, “Could I remove the Mark? Yes. But… only if you were to pass it on as well. To someone else. To ensure that the lock remains unbroken, and the Darkness remains locked away. If the Darkness is released, Dean, there is no telling what it could do to your little world.”

With that, Death looks over to you.

“Could this be a volunteer to take the Mark on next?”

Your eyes go wide. Despite how terrifying a thought that is, you’d do it for Dean. It took Dean a long time to succumb to the Mark. You’re certain you could fight it for at least as long as him. And it would buy you all time to figure out another way to get rid of it.

“No.” Dean practically growls, taking a defensive step into Death’s line of sight to you. “Hell no.”

Death looks at you once more, before sighing and shrugging.

“There may be one other option.” He states.

“Anything.” Dean answers.

“What if I told you I could relocate you somewhere far away, not even on this Earth, where you would still be alive, but no longer a danger to yourself or to others?”

Dean furrows his brows.

“Could you do that?” He asks.

Death nods.

“I could. But you must understand, Dean. You’ll be locked away, just like the Darkness, for eternity. Just you. Trapped in eternal nothingness forever.”

“But I won’t be able to hurt anyone else? And no one else will have to take this thing on, ever?” Dean asks, and Death nods.

Dean stands up straight.

“Deal.”

“No.” You cut in, your tone intense and commanding. “No deal. No fucking deal.”

They both look at you, and Death raises his eyebrows once more.

“There are a few caveats, I’m afraid.” Death says.

Dean eyes snap to look at him.

“Of course there are.” He sneers.

“Your brother, Dean. He will never accept that you’re gone. He will never let you go. And I suspect – from today’s exchange as well as the unceasing energy between the two of you – that Y/N won’t, either.”

“Yeah, and?” Dean asks.

“And,” Death continues, “I won’t make a deal with you if there’s any potential that one of them will come along and un-do it. It would be a waste of my very valuable time.”

“So… what are you sayin’?” Dean questions.

“What I’m saying is, they’ll have to go.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“No,” Dean rasps, shaking his head. “There’s gotta be another way.”

Death looks at Dean, frustration lacing his gaze.

“Call your brother, Dean. Get him here. As I said, my time is valuable. Waste another moment of it, and I won’t help you at all.”

Dean looks at Death hesitantly, then looks at you. There’s an apology somewhere behind his eyes, but he pulls his phone out despite that. He dials Sam’s number and holds it to his ear, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on you.

“Sammy.” He rasps when Sam picks up. “Yeah, yeah she’s here. No, I didn’t hurt her. She’s alright.”

He listens for a few seconds.

“You wanna keep her safe, Sam? You get to us. Now.”

His tone is so cold as he talks to his brother. You look at him indignantly, furious that he’s using you to lure Sam into this trap.

“Yeah, alright, Sammy. I’ll text you the address.”

With that, he hangs up the phone.

“Very good, Dean.” Death praises, and suddenly you hate Death.

Half an hour goes by as you all wait for Sam, and you’re using the metal of the cuffs to saw away at your wooden chair as subtly as you can. Death’s seated at a table, casually indulging in the food Dean provided. Dean’s just watching you, sadness behind his dark eyes. You’re looking back at him, wanting to say so many things and yet so frustrated, you don’t know where to begin.

Death sees the way Dean’s watching you, and he wipes his mouth with a napkin before standing from the table and walking toward Dean.

“There may be a way to save her, Dean.” He states.

You and Dean both break each other’s gaze to look suddenly at Death.

“Sam, he has to go.” Death states. “The two of you are so deeply ingrained in each other’s lives since birth, there would be no way to extract you from him. No way to make him forget you or give you up. But Y/N… well, you haven’t known her quite as long, have you?”

You’re immediately tensing up at where this conversation seems to be headed, and when you look at Dean you see that he is, too.

“It’s possible I could remove her recent memories. At least all the ones involving you and Sam. She would still be a hunter. Still be herself, of course. But she wouldn’t have the weight of all this on her shoulders anymore. She wouldn’t have the weight of YOU on her shoulders anymore, Dean. It would allow her to stay alive and also ensure that she won’t try to bring you back. She can’t bring back a person she doesn’t even remember.”

You and Dean both go wide-eyed, looking at each other. You stare at him desperately, and you’re just silently praying he can’t really be considering this. Any of this.

But to your dismay, he looks back at Death and clears his throat, shaking away any emotion.

“Will it hurt her?”

Death nods his head.

“A bit. But only briefly. Then, I can make sure she merely wakes up in the last place she remembers being before you. I can make it so that the time that has passed makes sense to her. Fill it with memories of other hunts and other people. And none of the pain that you’ve undoubtedly caused her.”

You’re suddenly feeling so overwhelmed you can hardly breathe. You can’t even fathom the idea of a life without Dean now. Losing these memories of him, and Sam, and Cass, it makes you sick to even think about. The thought of going back to the shell of a person you were before them absolutely terrifies you. Having to lose Dean in that way, losing not only him but any trace of him in your memories, is a fate worse than death.

“I’d rather you kill me.” You spit.

They both look at you, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, what? I don’t get a god damn say in my own fate?” You demand. “You need me out of the way so bad? Fine. Kill me.”

“Y/N…” Dean begins.

“Oh, don’t you dare.” You hiss, the betrayal lacing your tone, and you think you see a trace of genuine remorse in his eyes.

“You’re just sayin’ that now cause you’re pissed.” Dean says. “But if you forget me, you won’t even know what you’re missin’. You’ll have another chance at life. A life that I’m not screwin’ up at every turn.”

You scoff darkly at him.

“What I had before you wasn’t life.” You murmur, trying to keep your voice from cracking. “And I know you know that.”  
He furrows his brows and looks away from you, too guilty to hold your stare.

“Yeah, well,” He rasps, “You still deserve another shot at figurin’ out what life is, then.”

You shake your head at him, your throat beginning to burn from the tears beginning to well in your eyes.

“Please.” You whisper.

He won’t look at you. He can’t, and that’s what hurts the most.

Death begins walking toward you, and you’re instantly squirming and fighting in your seat. You tug harder at the cuffs while trying to push your chair further away from him. But it’s pointless, because he reaches you in seconds.  
“No.” You huff, shaking your head as he begins to lift his hand toward you.

“No!” You scream, your tears beginning to stream down your cheeks. “Dean!”

His jaw is quivering, his own eyes going misty, but he won’t look at you. He’s too afraid if he looks at you that he’ll change his mind, and he can’t do that.

“Dean,” You beg one last time, “Please.”

Death lowers his hand to your head, and his palm lights up. You scream again, this time in pain. You feel your panic and the tears still streaming and then suddenly, your hear the restaurant door burst open. Death removes his hand from your head, turning to look at Sam as he walks in.

Sam’s wide eyes look from Dean, to Death, then to you. He sees you – face red, chest heaving, tears streaming – and immediately rushes over to you. Death allows him, stepping out of the way as Sam falls to his knees in front of you.

“Hey, hey, you okay? Y/N, talk to me.” He urges carefully, gripping your face in his big hands.

Your panicked Y/E/C eyes focus on him, and an overwhelming relief floods through you at the fact that you still recognize him.

“Sammy.” You breathe, and you see him relax when he realizes you’re okay. “You gotta get out of here. It’s a trap.”

He furrows his brows and turns around, looking at Dean and Death. When he sees the way they’re both looking at him, he swallows hard. He stands, but keeps his body between you and them.

“What’s going on here, Dean?” He asks.

“I’m sorry, Sammy.” Dean says. “But this is the only way.”

“What is?!” Sam demands, looking at Death quickly, then back to his brother. “Your death?!”

“No, not mine.” Dean states. “Yours.”

Sam eyes go wide for a second, but he composes himself quickly, unwilling to show any weakness right now.

“Death can’t kill me, Sam. But he can send me away. Forever. To make sure I never hurt anyone else, ever again. That’s a good thing, you get that?” Dean reasons.

“No. Hell no.” Sam states determinedly.

“Our conundrum is simple, Sam.” Death interjects. “Your brother cannot be killed, and the Mark cannot be destroyed, not without inciting a far greater evil than any of us have ever known.”

“What evil?” Sam asks.

“The Darkness.” Dean answers solemnly.

“What the Hell even is that?” Sam questions.

“Well, what does it sound like? Does it sound like a good thing?” Dean demands.

“Even if I remove Dean from the playing field,” Death explains, “We're still left with you and Y/N; loyal, determined, and stubborn. Both of whom I suspect will never rest until your brother is set free - will never rest until he is free of the Mark, which simply cannot happen, lest the Darkness be set free. Now, Y/N, I can erase her memories of Dean. And of you. Which will spare her life. But I’m afraid that you, Sam, must die.”

Sam exhales sharply, looking from Death to Dean, wide-eyed and appalled.

“You traded my life.” He murmurs. “And you traded Y/N’s memories. Which you KNOW is just as bad.”

Dean looks away from his brother, the shame all over his face.

“There’s no other way.” He utters.

“Yes, there is!” Sam exclaims. “Cass just called me, Dean. Rowena is almost done with the spell. The spell that can remove that thing from your arm without ANYONE needing to die!”

Your eyes light up at hearing that. Despite what you now know about the Darkness, you’d still rather risk letting it out than losing Dean and Sam and all of your memories of the two of them. And maybe that’s selfish, but right now you just don’t care.

“That spell is the very god damn thing that could let The Darkness out!” Dean shouts. “The Darkness, Sam! A force that could destroy the whole planet!”

“Or maybe it won’t!” Sam shouts back. “Listen, Dean, we don’t know anything about it! We don’t even know if it’s real! And more importantly, even if it is, we can stop it! You know how I know that? Because it’s what we do. And we can do it again.”

“Ah, listen to yourself, Sam!” Dean exclaims, throwing his hands into the air. “You’re really willing to let the Darkness out into the world, just because you don’t want to lose me. Just because you don’t want to die. Does that sound like a hero to you? Does that sound like a good person? No, Sam, we are evil. We just do a damn good job of masking ourselves as heroes.”

“Wait a second.” Sam insists. “We are not evil. Listen... We're far from perfect, but we are good. That thing on your arm is evil, but not you, not me.”

“I let Rudy die. I almost killed Cass. I KILLED Y/N, Sam. I killed the only girl I ever loved because of what I am. And if I don’t stop this now, I could kill her again. I don’t wanna hurt you, Sammy. But if it means saving the rest of the world from us, then I will. I have to.”

“No, Dean. You are not evil. And neither am I.” Sam says. “There has got to be another way.”

“No,” Dean murmurs, looking down at his boots. “No, there is no other way.” He looks back up at his brother. “I’m sorry.”

With that, Sam suddenly punches Dean in the face. You can tell that it takes all of you by surprise. Dean rubs his jaw and nods, narrowing his eyes at his brother.

“Good.” Dean rasps. “Good. We’ll fight.”

And he hits Sam back.

In seconds, the two of them are going back and forth with each other so quickly that your eyes can hardly keep up. And they are not holding back. Sam’s bruising Dean’s cheekbones and Dean’s splitting Sam’s lip. And all the while, you’re sawing away at the chair with your metal cuffs, desperately trying to break through the wood and stop the chaos unfolding in front of you. To protect both brothers from each other and themselves.

But the fight rages on, and Dean is starting to win. The bruises and blood litter Sam’s face as Dean knocks him back, then throws him to the ground. Sam tries to get up and Dean punches him again, knocking him back to the ground.

“No!” You shout, watching as Dean practically beats his brother into the floor. “Dean, please, listen to me. Dean, that’s enough!”

Dean pauses, looking over to you. His chest his heaving and his eyes are dark, but he sees you. He stops beating Sam long enough to really look at you. And when he looks back at Sam, Sam’s looking up at him, exhausted and emotional.

“Okay,” Sam coughs, spitting out blood onto the floor. “You win. You win. But you will never, ever hear me say that you - the real you - is anything but good.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but you join in.

“He’s right, Dean.” You croak.

The emotion is all over your face as you look at them, seeing what Dean has done to his little brother.

“You think you two are evil? No, I know evil. I have spent more of my life surrounded by evil than not. And you know who saved me from that evil? You. You and Sam. The two of you saved me in more ways than you’ll ever know, Dean.” Your voice cracks as you speak to him. “Please, you have to know that.”

Dean clenches his jaw before looking from you back to Sam.

“It’s okay.” Sam whispers. “I understand, Dean. You do what you need to do.” He sighs heavily, the tears now falling down his cheeks.

“No,” You breathe out a desperate plea, yanking desperately at the cuffs on your wrists. “Sam, no.”

Sam’s tearful eyes look over to you.

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He does his best to muster a smile for you. “It’s okay. I love you.”

Your jaw quivers as your own tears drop down your cheeks once more.

Just then, Death steps forward, handing his scythe to Dean.

“Please.” He says calmly. “Do me the honor.”

You look on in infuriated anguish as Dean takes the scythe and looks back down at his brother. Sam looks up at Dean, the tears still falling, biting back sobs.

Dean closes his eyes and sighs deeply. He opens them slowly.

“Close your eyes.” He whispers.

Sam hesitates, and Dean repeats himself.

“Sammy, close your eyes.”

“Wait.” Sam whispers. He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a few photographs and placing them on the floor in front of Dean. From your spot only feet away, you can see them, too. There’s one of Dean and his mom from when he was little. There’s one of Dean and Sam back when they first started hunting together again. And there’s one of you and Dean – one of the few of you and Dean – that Sam snapped when the two of you weren’t looking.

Dean looks down at them, his jaw beginning to quiver as he does, his eyes filling with emotion.

“Take these.” Sam whispers. “And one day, when you find your way back... Let these be your guide. And they can help you remember what it was to be good...what it was to love.”

Dean looks down at his brother, who is hardly conscious from the beating he just received. His hands are shaking as they hold the scythe, the hesitation all over his face.

“It’s for family you must proceed, Dean.” Death sounds from behind him.

“Hey, Death,” You state confidently, “Go screw yourself.”

Dean’s eyes snap to look at you, as if coming out of a trance, and you look right back at him.

“You’re not gonna do this, handsome.” You whisper firmly, shaking your head. “Not to Sammy.”

“To be what you are, to become what you've become is a stain on your family’s memory, Dean. Do it. Or I will.” Death pushes.

But Dean doesn’t look at him. His eyes stay fixed on you. And you look at him. Your gaze doesn’t waver. You give him that stare that only the two of you share. The one you have always shared. The one that speaks to a part of him he often forgets he has. And it gets through. Sam got through to him first, and now you’re not letting him go.

And you smirk at him, giving him that same cheeky smile you’ve given him a thousand times.

“Put it down, tough guy.”

And he does.

“I can’t.” He finally whispers, exhaling a heavy breath as he drops the scythe to the ground next to him.

Sam looks up at him, wide-eyed and relieved, before looking over at you. You exhale a deep breath and smile at him in relief.

“Now, Dean,” Death suddenly speaks up. “You promised you wouldn’t burn me again. You lied.”

The quiet rage in Death’s voice is terrifying, and it’s matched only by the fury also in his eyes. With the most subtle tilt of his head, he sends Dean flying across the room and into a mess of tables and chairs.

“No!” You shout, watching as Death picks up his scythe and stands over Sam.

“I said that if he didn’t do it, I would.” Death states matter-of-factly. “Unlike your brother, I don’t lie.”

Sam looks up in sudden terror, and you’re once again sawing frantically at the back of your chair. Dean’s all the way across the room, disoriented, and Death begins to raise his scythe up over Sam. Sam lifts his arms in self-defense, helpless to do anything more in his current position. Dean finally comes to, and looks across the room, but he’s too far away by the time he realizes what’s happening. His panicked green eyes look on as Death lifts the scythe even higher and prepares to bring it down.

And in that same second, you finally break through the weakened wood on the back of your chair. You rip the cuffs from the chair, leaping out of it with your hands still behind your back. In one motion, you jump into the air and lift your knees to your chest, pulling your cuffed wrists under your legs and to your front. As soon as you land back on your feet, you lunge forward, pummeling into Death right before he’s able to bring the blade down onto Sam.

The two of you barrel to the ground hard, and he looks utterly enraged and completely offended that you would even dare touch him, let alone tackle him. His eyes narrow at you and in an instant his hand flies to your head once more.

“I still need to remove those memories, don’t I?” He whispers, looking into your eyes.

His palm lights up, and you scream. The pain is immense, and you can’t escape his power no matter how hard you try.

“No!” Sam bellows, trying desperately to clamor to his feet in his weakened state.

You squeeze your eyes closed as you begin to feel dizzy, and the pain continues to course through your skull. Death glares down at you, watching as you writhe under his touch, when suddenly a whooshing of air is followed by a smooth thunk. Death looks down, and finds his own scythe goring through his torso. He releases you, letting you slump to the ground as he turns to face Dean, whose hands are still loosely gripping the handle of the weapon, with Sam standing right beside him.

They both look at Death, their eyes wide. He looks at the two of them one more time before his skin suddenly begins to crack, until he’s nothing more than a pile of ash that crumbles to the ground, taking his scythe along with him.

Sam and Dean exchange shocked glances, before they both turn their attention back to you. They rush to your side, dropping to their knees on either side of your unconscious form.

“Y/N!” Sam shouts, gently holding your shoulder.

“Sweetheart, come on.” Dean mutters, unlocking your wrists from the cuffs and then grabbing your cheeks, desperately searching your face with his green eyes.

“Dean…” Sam breathes shakily, looking emotionally at his brother. “What if-What if it worked? 

What if we didn’t stop him in time? Her memories…”

Dean looks from Sam back down to you, a pit in his stomach at Sam’s words.

Suddenly, the restaurant begins to shake. They look at each other in confusion, and in the same instant a hole explodes through the roof of the building. A bright purple lightning bolt of power shoots down, connecting with Dean’s arm. Dean groans in pain and surprise, gripping his arm to steady himself as the powerful beam crackles with electricity against his forearm. Sam looks on in wonder, unsure of what else to do. This lasts for only a few seconds, then the beam is gone as quickly as it appeared, shooting up into the exposed sky above them. Dean’s chest is heaving as he gets his bearings, and it’s then that he and Sam both see his arm.

His smooth, undamaged, unmarked arm.

Sam can’t help but smile and exhale a breathless chuckle of relief.

“It’s gone.” Dean murmurs, looking from his arm to Sam.

Sam nods. “It’s gone, Dean. How do you feel?”

Dean furrows his brows, thinking seriously about the question.

“I feel…” His breath catches in his throat as he looks back down at you. “Like I need her to be okay.”

He brushes his thumb gently over your cheek, whispering to you as he does.

“Come on, Sweetheart, please. I’m here now. I’m back. So, you gotta come on back, too.”

Slowly, your eyes flutter open. You look up at the boys in a daze, your brow furrowing as you look at them.

Sam and Dean exchange terrified glances, neither of them knowing if you’ll recognize them – and neither of them knowing if they will be able to handle it if you don’t.

“Hey,” Dean exhales sharply, smiling down at you and continuing to caress your cheek, “Hey there, Gorgeous. Thought I’d lost you there for a minute. Sure am glad to see you’re okay, though.”

His words are shaky as he speaks. The few seconds it takes you to answer feels like an eternity to him as he silently begs you to please, please know him. Because he can’t let you go even if you don’t. He can’t live with himself if every beautiful memory you’ve shared together has been washed away, because of him.

So he holds his breath.

Finally, your look of confusion fades. And slowly, a grin takes its place.

“Well,” You whisper, “I could say the same to you, Winchester.”

He exhales shakily, a beaming grin splitting his face as he does. He looks at Sam, who lets out his own sigh of relief and grins down at you.

“You really think I could ever forget you two?” You ask with a smirk.

They look down at you adoringly, before the two of them help you to your feet. And it’s then that you notice Dean’s arm. You run your thumb softly along the spot that for as long as you’ve known him, has held the Mark.

“It’s gone?” You ask quietly, looking up at him hopefully.

He nods.

“It’s gone, baby. It’s gone.”

His brows suddenly knit together in guilt as he looks at you.

“I… God, I’m sorry.” He croaks, looking from you over to his beaten little brother. “I am so god damn sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Sam insists, patting his brother on the shoulder and giving him those puppy dog eyes. “It wasn’t your fault, Dean. And it’s done. It’s finally done.”

“But, the Darkness…” Dean mutters.

“To Hell with the Darkness.” You state, and he looks at you intently. “Have you met us, Dean Winchester? You think we can’t handle the Darkness? Psh, please. I say bring it on. We got you back. We can handle anything.”

You smirk at him once more, and Dean can’t hold himself back from you any longer. He pulls you toward him urgently and powerfully, wrapping one arm around your waist and gripping the back of your head with his other hand. He presses his lips against yours, and all the air rushes from your lungs when he does, leaving you breathless. You’ve kissed Dean many times, and every time has been amazing. But this time is different. There’s always been a tension, a kind of hesitation behind every kiss and every touch. This time, there’s no hesitation. He’s melting into you completely and letting you melt right back into him the same way. He’s giving you all of him, unbridled and pure and loving. And it would knock you off your feet if he wasn’t holding you so tightly.

He pulls back, the honey-drenched jade of his eyes looking at you with a passion that sets your heart aflame. You realize in this moment how much this means – for him, and for you and him together. You’ve never known him without the Mark. He’s never been able to love you without the Mark weighing him down. And now, finally, after all this time, he can. And as he looks at you right now, you can see he feels that, too.

“I love you, Sweetheart.” He rasps.

And somehow, you feel it in a way you never have before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, you guys know me. I love my angst and drama and cliffhangers.
> 
> But, I figured that with the show ending, that's not what any of us really needed right now. So, I hope you enjoyed this instead.
> 
> However, I'm still not done. So I hope you're all still with me. As always, thank you all so much for reading.


	75. Chapter 75

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for everyone to finally come back together, especially Dean and the Reader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> Alright, you guys know me. I love my angst, and my drama, and my pain.
> 
> ...however...
> 
> This chapter is not that. These two lovers have been through Hell (thanks to me) and I felt the need to make it up to them just a little. Also, maybe I'm just still sad about the finale and wanted to make myself feel better.
> 
> Regardless, I hope you like it. ;-)
> 
> P.S. This is the longest chapter I've ever written for this, so I hope you like that, too.
> 
> Enjoy!

The three of you walk out of the little restaurant hesitantly. You’re all still feeling the joy of this reunion, but you’re also all still thinking about what Death said about The Darkness. You look up at the wide open sky, your eyes cautiously searching for any sign of chaos on the horizon.

But, nothing comes.

The wind blows lazily and the sun is shining and the air is crisp. And that’s it. The three of you look around at each other, none of you willing to let yourself immediately believe that things could possibly be okay.

You’re not naïve, you know things can’t be that easy. Things can’t simply work out for you guys, that’s not how your lives work. You know something is coming. It has to be.

But it’s not here yet.

And you’ve finally got Dean back.

So, the three of you silently agree that all you really want to do is go home. You climb into the Impala, get your belongings from your hotels, and head out on the road. Dean’s driving, Sam’s in the passenger seat, and you’re in the back – just the way you always like it. Dean eyes you with a smile in the rear-view as he drives, and you grin right back.

When you get back to the bunker, Cass and Charlie are there in the library waiting for you. And when they see Dean, their eyes light up.

Charlie rushes him as soon as you all reach the bottom of stairs, her small body hitting his with such force as she hugs him that he lets out a breathless “oof” and drops his bag before wrapping his arms around her with a grin. After a few seconds, she pulls away from him and grins up at him excitedly.

“Is the one and only real Dean Winchester really back?” She asks.

He nods.

“Wouldn’t have happened without you, kiddo.” He answers with a grin. He pats her on the shoulder and looks into her eyes. “Thanks, Charlie.”

“Ah, it was nothing.” She says with a shrug. “Just… maybe try to stay out of trouble to give us all a break for at least a little while, huh?”

He chuckles. “No promises.”

Then, he looks at Cass. Cass nods at him with a subtle smile of acknowledgement. Without another word, Dean strides toward him and grabs him by the shoulder, pulling him into a rough hug. Cass hugs him back, and Dean slaps him once on the back before pulling away.

“Cass, man, I’m sorry.”

Cass just shakes his head.

“You don’t need to be. It wasn’t your fault, Dean. I’m just glad you’re back.”

“Yeah,” Dean says earnestly. “Yeah, me too. Thank you, for everything.”

Then, he looks at Charlie, Sam, and you.

“Thank you all. I, uh… I got no excuse for how I acted with that thing on my arm. And I know I can never make up for it. But I’ll damn sure try. Just know how god damn sorry I am… to all of you. For everything.”

“Hey, Dean, it’s okay.” Sam says. “Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t you. You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

He nods at Sam appreciatively, and Sam suddenly looks around the room.

“Wait… if you guys are here, where’s Rowena?” He asks. “Where’s the book?”

Charlie and Cass exchange sheepish looks, and Cass is the one who reluctantly speaks up first.

“Rowena got away. With the book.”

“What?!” Sam demands.

“Hey, relax, big guy, it wasn’t our fault.” Charlies explains. “The Book gave her more power than we expected. I don’t know what kinda weird magical crap she did, but she’s, like, super juiced up now. We’re lucky we got away.”

“How did you get away?” Dean asks.

“She said she’s so much more powerful than us now that we weren’t even worth the magic.” Cass answers, his tone indignant as he recalls the interaction. He looks at you, "I also believe she may still have been intimidated by you and didn't want do anything that might upset you too much."

Dean raises his eyebrows and looks at you.

"Intimated by you?" He asks.

You shrug.

"I needed her to read the book. So maybe I threatened her just a bit."

"A bit?!" Charlie exclaims. "More like scared the holy crap out of her." She looks at Dean and whispers, "It was awesome."

Dean eyes you, smirking an impressed little grin, and you just smirk back.

"Wait so-so what, she just disappeared?!" Sam asks, still fixated on Rowena.

“We freaking blinked and she was gone.” Charlie says.

Sam looks frustrated, but you chime in.

“Hey, at least you guys are okay.” You say, looking at them and then over to Sam. “We can handle her, alright? She’ll show herself soon enough. Can we please just appreciate a win, here?”

You look at Dean, then back to Sam.

“Please?”

Sam looks at you for a few seconds, then begins to relax when he looks over at his brother.

“Fine.” He says with a slight smile.

Dean grins at his brother, looks around at all of you, then looks around the bunker.

“Ahhh,” He exhales, “Home sweet home.”

He swaggers into the library, plopping himself down into one of the chairs at the table. Although it hasn’t been that long since he’s physically been here in the bunker, it has been a long time since he’s been fully here mentally. And you can see it all over his face that he realizes that, too.

“Something tells me we could all use a drink. I mean, I personally have been just a little more stressed than usual lately. Not sure about you guys.” You jest.

They’re all amused by that, and they all nod in agreement of your suggestion. You head into the kitchen and return, arms full, with drinks for everyone.

When you hand Dean his, he looks up at you with something that goes beyond just appreciation for the drink. His eyes are admiring you in a much deeper way, and you just smile at him as you take a seat next to him.

For a while, the five of you just sit around like this, catching up and enjoying the fact that you’re all here, and you’re all okay.

You’re all beyond exhausted, but none of you care. Not right now. This time is more important than sleep could ever be.  
You and Charlie jokingly plan your girls night, and Dean pouts like a child when you both tell him he’s not invited.

Sam and Dean laugh at the bruises on each other’s faces, both of them joking about the way they’ve always been able to kick each other’s asses.

You lay on the charm enough to convince Cass to do some shots with you, trying desperately to get the angel even remotely intoxicated. It’s only when you start to lose count of how many shots you’ve given him that you finally start to notice a buzz, and you all can’t help but laugh at him. The boys admire you silently as you beam with pride and laugh with joy about the fact that you’ve accomplished your mission.

Everyone is a sorta drunk and very content and this goes on for hours, well into the early morning. Finally, Sam’s the first to let out a big yawn, and it’s only then that you actually realize how long you’ve all been sitting here.

“What time is it?” Sam asks, furrowing his brows.

Dean checks his watch and laughs.

“Damn. 6:00 am.”

A wave of realization and exhaustion washes over the room, and you know you’re all on the same page. After everything you’ve all just gone through, you finally need to pass out. Sam stands and Dean follows suit, grabbing you by the hand and pulling you to your feet with a thoughtful smile when he sees how tired you look. 

“Time to crash.” He rasps, then points at Charlie. “You’re crashin’ here, kiddo. Got it?”

Charlie yawns and nods. “No argument here, my dude.”

Dean looks at Castiel. “You stayin’?”

Cass nods. “For a bit. Just to watch over everyone.”

You smile at that and Dean nods at him. “Good man.”

With that, Dean turns to you.

“Let’s go, Princess.”

The two of you walk down the hall, and you can’t deny the wave of joy that washes over you when you walk into his room together. He takes off his flannel and jeans and silently digs into his dresser, pulling out one of his t-shirts and handing it to you. You take it with a knowing smile and quickly strip your clothes off before pulling it over your head. He watches you with silent admiration as you do.

The two of you stand there, just looking at each other for a moment. As you look at him, finally alone with him, it comes crashing down on you how much you’ve missed him. How much you’ve missed this. And you can’t fight the emotion unexpectedly bubbles up in your chest. Emotion that all at once overwhelms you. Then suddenly, you put your hands on his chest and shove him. You don’t push him hard, but it’s enough to make him stumble backward slightly and look at you in complete confusion.

“What the Hell was that for?” He asks.

“For leaving me! For leaving me over and over and over again!”

His face drops, the immediate understanding and shame all over his features. You push him again, and he lets you.  
“I’m sorry.” He murmurs guiltily.

“You should be!” You shout, pushing him again. “Do you have any idea what it felt like? To be left behind by you, over and over?”

He furrows his brows, pain etched on his face, as he lets you take out the frustration he knows has been building in you for so long. And honestly, it’s frustration he wants you to take out. Because it’s also frustration you have every right to feel.

“I never gave up on you, Dean! I promised I wouldn’t, and I didn’t – and then you gave up on me! I proved to you over and over and OVER how much I love you and you still had the fucking nerve to think I would ever let this go?! To treat me the way you treated me?!”

You pause, your chest heaving, surprising even yourself by this sudden outburst. You weren’t planning it, you don’t even really know where it came from. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the booze, or maybe you just couldn’t hold it in any longer. But no matter the reason, you’re not sorry you said it.

He pauses, as if he’s giving you a chance to shove him again. When you don’t, he finally sighs deeply and looks at you with sad green eyes.

“You’re right.” He murmurs, his gaze unfaltering, but full of remorse. “The way I treated you, it’s not okay. The-the things that I said to you… the things that I did to you…” He clenches his jaw and looks away from you, gritting out his next words, “The way I touched you…”

He hesitates for a second before looking back at you, his eyes dripping with contrition.

“None of it was okay. It will never be okay. I’m sorry – for all of that. And I am especially sorry for givin’ up. For makin’ you feel like I didn’t believe in us anymore. It wasn’t you that I was ever givin’ up on, Y/N. It was me.”

You open your mouth to go back at him for that, but he takes the words from your mouth before you have a chance.

“And I know, that’s complete bullshit. Because at the end of the day, I walked away. I did that. And there will never be an excuse good enough to explain how I could ever walk away from you.”

You let him go on now, intently listening to every word.

“And normally,” He states, “This is where I’d tell you that I don’t deserve you and that I understand if you wanna walk away right now and find somethin’ better.”

You’re ready to cut him off again, but he takes a few steps forward, his eyes locked on yours so vehemently that you can’t even find your words.

“But I won’t do that.” He states. “I won’t. Because that would be me, giving up. And that will never happen again. I will never let you go. I know… that there is nothing better out there than you and me.”

He steps toward you again, now only inches away.

“So, I will never stop proving to you how sorry I am. I will never stop proving to you how much I love you. I will never make you feel like you need to prove yourself to me ever again. And I will never, ever, leave you behind again, Y/N. I’ll spend the rest of my life makin’ this up to you, Gorgeous, no matter how long or short that life may be.”

He pauses again.

“Okay?” He asks, sounding slightly nervous.

It’s quiet for a moment as you let his words sink in. And despite how stubborn you are, every trace of frustration melts away as they do. This is what you needed from him. This is what you deserved from him. And he knew it. He always does.

“Okay.” You finally whisper back with a smile.

He exhales a relieved chuckle.

“Well, okay.” He drawls.

He extends his hand to you, and you take it immediately. He drags you into the bed and you both laugh happily as he pulls you tightly against his body under the covers. You look at each other sleepily, the both of you sighing contentedly as you study each other’s faces in the dark.

“Missed you, Winchester.” You whisper.

“Missed you more, Sweetheart.” He whispers back.

He pulls you in even closer, and you close your eyes. Then, the two of you let yourselves rest for the first time in a very long time.

You accidentally sleep most of the next day away. It’s not often that you get a chance to sleep without some sort of unbearable concern weighing you down, so you take advantage of this. When you do wake up, the first thing you notice is that the bed is empty next to you. But when you roll over and see that it’s nearly 5:00pm, you can’t even blame Dean for getting up before you.

You lazily drag your jeans on, but leave on Dean’s t-shirt. You head out of Dean’s room, and immediately notice how quiet the place seems to be. You stroll into the library, your eyes searching for someone, but you see no one.

“Ah, there she is - my sleeping beauty.” Dean says with a grin as he walks through the map room and greets you in the library.

You grin at him, admiring his bow legs as he walks. When he reaches you, he pulls you in and kisses you on the forehead before pulling back to look at your face.

“Where is everyone?” You ask.

“Well, Cass feels guilty that Rowena got away on his watch, so he’s already out lookin’ for her. And I sent Charlie and Sam out for the night to go see some weirdo nerd movie one state over. They won’t be back until tomorrow.”

You raise your eyebrows.

“Oh really?” You ask.

“Really.” He drawls.

“You trying to get me alone, Winchester?” You tease.

He licks his lower lip as he looks you up and down.

“I absolutely am.” He answers.

“And, whatever are we going to do here…” You put your hands on his hips, “…in this big old bunker…” You run your hands gently up the sides of his t-shirt, “…all by ourselves…” You lower your voice to a sultry whisper, “…all night long?”

Your Y/E/C eyes look at him seductively, and he bites his lip and closes his eyes, grunting quietly. It takes him a few seconds to compose himself, and when he finally does, he pulls away from you slightly and looks down at you.

“Ah, ah, Sweetheart, I…” He exhales a heavy breath, still trying to pull himself together, “I got somethin’ else planned first.”

You raise your eyebrows again.

“You do?”

“Yeah, I do.” He says confidently. “I’m takin’ you out. You and me, darlin’. I told you I’m gonna start provin’ myself to you. That starts right now.”

You can’t deny the butterflies you feel when you hear that.

“Where?” You ask keenly.

“Just a little place in town. I’d take you to the Ritz if I could, but I don’t think we’d fit in there anyway. This place is nothin’ swanky, but it’s better than the dirty ass dive bars we usually end up in.”

“Well, handsome, if it’s got booze and music, it’s already good enough for me.” You hum with a smirk.

He grins down at you.

“And that is why you are the perfect woman.” He rasps.

You laugh, and then turn to begin walking down the hall.

“Guess I’ll go get ready,” You croon, “I mean, I better make myself sexy for this fancy date.”

“Sweetheart, you couldn’t be anything less than sexy if you tried!” He calls after you, his eyes locked on you as you walk away.

You grin to yourself as you walk down the hall to the shower. After your shower, you head into your room and begin looking for something to wear. This feeling is so foreign to you, the nervous butterflies you’re experiencing as you actually try to find the perfect outfit for a date. The only “date” you’ve ever been on is when Dean was a demon and you couldn’t have said no if you wanted to. So that really doesn’t count.

Which means you’ve never done this before.

You’ve been to Hell, you’ve fought the Devil, you’ve died a few times.

But you’ve never been taken on a date, and you’ve never had to excitedly pick out the perfect outfit for one.  
It never ceases to amaze you the way this man has changed you.

After digging through what little variety of clothing you have, you actually manage to find a little black dress amongst the t-shirts and jeans and flannels. It’s one that you’ve never worn, and you’re certain you only bought it in case you would someday need it for going undercover.

You look at it hesitantly, unsure if it’ll even fit or if you’ll even be able to take yourself seriously in it. But, what the hell, why not, right?

You drag it on over your hips, pulling the thick straps over your shoulders. You look in the mirror, and honestly surprise yourself with what you see. It fits perfectly. It’s tight and hugs your curves, short but not too short. You feel surprisingly comfortable in it. You smile subtly to yourself again before putting on some makeup, doing your hair, and putting on a pair of heels that are usually reserved for your FBI getup.

When you’re finished getting ready, you look at yourself in the mirror briefly once more before heading down the hall to meet Dean in the library.

He looks almost as if he’s nervous as he paces in the library, but he turns around to face you when he hears the clicking of your heels coming in his direction.

As soon as he sees you, you can actually see his breath catch in his throat. His whole body freezes, and the only movement is from his eyes as they trail up and down your body. He looks spellbound for a moment, before finally clearing his throat and swallowing hard.

“I… you, uh…” He mumbles out.

You raise your eyebrows and smirk at him.

“You got something to say, tough guy?”

“I…” He inhales deeply, then puffs out his cheeks and lets out a long, heavy breath, “Yeah, you really got me speechless here, Sweetheart.”

Your cheeks flush a little, but you just stride up to him and plant a kiss on his still stunned lips.

“C’mon, take me out, cowboy.” You murmur with a wink.

“Gladly.” He states confidently.

He grins and grabs your hand, leading the way up the stairs and out to the Impala. 

The two of you eat and talk and drink and flirt through your meal and even though you already know each other so well, it still feels like a first date in so many ways. There’s a clarity behind those green eyes of his that you’ve never seen, and he seems carefree in a way you had imagined he’d only ever experienced in his younger years.

The place isn’t fancy, you don’t feel out of place. It’s old-fashioned but high quality, just like man who brought you here. It’s perfect for the two of you. The kind of place you can have a nice meal but still continue the night with a few drinks at the bar and a few songs on the jukebox.

And that’s exactly what you do.

You play each other’s favorite songs and get each other drinks and end up sitting in a dark corner of the room at a high top table. Suddenly, he eyes you especially thoughtfully, to the point you actually feel your cheeks getting warm.

“What?” You ask playfully.

“I, uh…” He seems almost nervous as he goes on, “I got somethin’ for ya.”

You look at him incredulously.

“A date AND a present? Careful, Dean, you’re spoiling me.”

He chuckles nervously and shakes his head.

“Nah, it’s nothin’ fancy. Not by a long shot. I wish I could get you somethin’ nice… but I just really wanted to give you this.”

He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a flat, square box and places it on the table in front of you. You look from the box to him, your brows furrowed.

“Just open it.” He breathes.

You look back down at the box for a few more seconds before finally lifting the lid off of it. Once you do, you see a large silver ring, and the ring is on a delicate silver chain. The ring isn’t new, and it’s hardly even shiny. It’s scuffed and scratched and somehow so beautiful at the same time. Your eyes flash from the ring up to meet Dean’s, and you find him watching you expectantly.

“I used to wear it all the time.” He says quietly. “Then, I stopped. And I don’t know why I stopped. I think maybe because it reminded me of when I was younger. When things were simpler. When hunting was just hunting and my dad was still alive and Sammy was still just a regular kid. And when all that changed, I guess lookin’ at it reminded me that things would never be that simple again. That life would never be easy or fun or… happy. At least, not for me. So I took it off.”  
He looks down at it quietly for a few long seconds, his brow furrowed.

“But, see, the thing is…” He looks up at you, and his face relaxes. “The thing is that bein’ with you makes me feel those things again, Y/N. Hell, life still ain’t easy. We’re facin’ the end of the world and the end of our lives at every turn. But when it’s just you and me together, that’s when things are simple. The way I feel about you, that’s what’s so easy. And bein’ around you, that’s when I am so god damn happy. You make me feel all these things that I haven’t felt since I was a kid. That I was so sure I couldn’t ever feel again. So… I guess I just figured that ring belongs to you now.”

You just look at him, wide-eyed and speechless, as his words sink in. You’re feeling a million emotions, and yet can’t seem to figure out how to express any of them. The fact that he would give you this piece of his life means more than you can even describe. It isn’t just a ring – it’s a memory, a feeling, a symbol of the hope that he hasn’t felt in a very long time. And he’s giving it to you.

“Dean…” You exhale.

“It’s way too big, I know. I figured you could wear it on a necklace like that. I mean – if you even wanna wear it at all. I know it’s not pretty.” He says. “Girl as beautiful as you deserves somethin’ beautiful, too. But I-"

“Dean.” You say, stopping him immediately. “It’s way more than beautiful. It’s… perfect.”

You look down at it adoringly, before looking back up at him with a beaming grin.

“I love it.” You say earnestly. “Thank you.”

When he sees the sincerity behind your smile, his own bright smile spreads across his face. He gets up suddenly, coming around to your side of the table to clasp the thin silver chain around the back of your neck. The ring lays perfectly on the center of your chest, and you look down at it in wonder, running your fingertips lightly over the cool silver. He takes a step back, eyeing you tenderly.

“Well, you were right, Sweetheart.” He murmurs. “It is perfect.”

You smile at him, and he grins back. He breaks your gaze to allow his eyes to slowly skim down the rest of your body, and your skin suddenly feels hot from the way he’s looking at you. When his eyes finally do meet yours again, there’s a mischievous excitement behind them that you can’t help but return.

“Whadda ya say we get outta here, huh, Gorgeous?” He asks, with an arch of his eyebrow.

You bite your lip and smirk.

“Yes, please.”

He grins, taking you by the hand and guiding you out of the bar into the cool night air. As soon as you’re outside, you drag him around to the darkened alley on the side of the bar, shoving him up against the wall. He exhales a chuckle, his eyes sparkling as he looks at you.

“You make me feel that way, too, you know.” You whisper.

“What way?” He asks, as his hands trail from the sides of your stomach down over your hips, and back up, his eyes never leaving yours.

“The way that nothing and no one before you ever has.” You look deep into his eyes. “Hopeful.”

He smiles, and you push yourself forward and press your lips urgently against his. He kisses you back, deepening the kiss with his tongue as his hands continue to move over your waist and your hips. Your hands drag up over his chest to the sides of his face, holding him tightly as your tongue dances with his.

His hands start to grip you more tightly, and you can feel the heat from his palms even through the fabric of your skirt. You moan into his mouth as his warmth seeps into you, and that drags a quiet growl from his throat. Slowly, he moves one hand from your hip down under your skirt, his rough fingers running along your inner thigh so lightly it almost tickles.

He drags his fingers up to the fabric of your panties, lightly rubbing your aching center through them and causing you to gasp quietly.

“Fuck, Dean,” You sigh shakily into his mouth.

“Mmm,” He groans hungrily, pulling his lips from yours and bringing them down to kiss your neck and whisper against your skin, “Love it when you say my name like that, Sweetheart.”

As he says it, he applies just a little more pressure to your throbbing clit, and it’s enough to make you shiver. And even though you’re shivering from his touch, it reminds him how cold it is outside. He pulls away, his lustful eyes looking down at you through thick lashes.

“C’mon, Gorgeous.” He whispers with a glittering grin. “Gotta have you.”

You smile back as he grabs your hips once more, walking quickly behind you as he ushers you to the Impala. You go to reach for the passenger door handle, but he spins you around quickly and pins you against Baby.

“Uh-uh,” He says with the shake of his head, that same adolescent exhilaration his face, “Gotta have you, now.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, and his eyes flick playfully to the backseat. You smile and nod eagerly, and he opens the back door for you, allowing you to crawl in before him. When he closes the door behind him, the two of you study each other intently for a moment before diving into each other again.

He lifts you effortlessly, spinning so that he’s seated in the middle of the backseat with you facing him, straddling his lap. His rough fingers trail up and down your thighs, and your hands rest on his muscled shoulders as you look down at him. You push his jacket and his flannel off, tossing them casually over your shoulder into the front and bringing your hands once again down on his shoulders.

He licks his lips as he looks at you, slowly bringing his hands up over your sides and to the straps of your dress. He hooks his fingers beneath them on each side, carefully pulling the top half of your dress down and revealing your bare upper half to him. He exhales shakily, wasting no time to bring his mouth forward and tease your nipples with his soft lips and tongue. You moan, grinding down onto him and gripping his shoulders even more tightly as he plays with you.

Eventually, he pulls back, bringing his hand once more up under your tight skirt. His fingertips brush along your core, finally dipping into your panties and dancing over your desperate clit. You whine at the feeling, throwing your head back and moving yourself on his hand.

He looks up at you in awe, his lust-blown eyes studying your every movement, your every breath. You throw yourself forward suddenly, kissing him deeply as you bring your hands down to undo his belt and unbutton his jeans hastily. You get through his belt and you’re hurriedly fumbling with his buttons, and he laughs breathlessly as he gently grabs your wrists, pulling your hands away slightly and looking into your eyes.

“Hey, hey, darlin’. We got time. Tonight, we got time.”

His green eyes pierce into you, and you feel a whole new wave of arousal wash over you. You go back to unbuttoning his jeans, but much more slowly this time. You’re appreciating every second of the experience with him, which you can tell is exactly what he wants. He returns the favor, slowly pushing the fabric of your skirt up over your hips, his fingers kneading the soft flesh of your thighs as he does, his lashes fluttering as his eyes rake over your skin.

You reach your hands into his jeans, gripping him firmly and brushing your thumb over his already leaking head. Now he throws his head back, resting it against the back of the seat. He closes his eyes and grunts at the sensation, and you can’t help but watch the bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he does.

He regains his composure quickly, looking at you and lifting his hips to allow you to push his jeans down further. At the same time, he hooks his fingers on the string of your thong, gently beginning to drag it down your thighs. You both giggle playfully as you use the front seats as leverage to lift yourself, allowing him to pull it the rest of the way down your legs and off. There’s a hint of mischief in his eyes as he puts the thong in the back pocket of his jeans.

“Souvenir.” He drawls with a wink.

You laugh again, before grabbing the hem of his t-shirt and pulling it off over his head, revealing his bare chest to you. You run your hands over his freckled skin, and he inhales sharply at your soft touch.

“Come on, baby,” He huffs, “Lemme feel you.”

You don’t need any further instruction than that. You let him lift you once more, this time bringing you down into his lap slowly and pushing inside you as he does. You both gasp as he fills you, the electricity shooting through your legs and down to your heel-clad feet.

You both take just a second to adjust, and then you beginning move up and down in his lap, the tip of his hard length immediately brushing your sweet spot each time he fills you completely. You place your open hands on his bare chest, moaning and looking down at him with lidded eyes as you move on top of him.

He watches you, completely and utterly entranced, soft grunts and moans falling from his own lips as he does. You notice him looking at the necklace as it bounces against your bare chest above him, and you see him admiring it and you.

“You are so fucking beautiful.” He exhales, his own lust-blown eyes glittering as he marvels up at you.

“You should really see yourself right now.” You pant through your movements on top of him.

He exhales a breathless chuckle, grinning up at you as you smirk back.

Suddenly he grips your hips tighter, flipping you onto your back on the leather seat in one quick motion.

You laugh out in surprise, and he chuckles again, breathless and raspy. Then he starts moving inside of you once more, slowly and powerfully, dragging his hips forward and back over and over again.

Your playful smile fades as the pleasure overtakes you, and your laugh dissolves into a needy moan. As the pleasure consumes him as well, he rests one hand down next to your face, his fingers tangling in your messy hair and gripping the leather seat tightly as the other hand slams against the glass window above you, helping him steady himself.

You turn your head, kissing his strong forearm, your one hand trailing up and down his arm as the other reaches around and digs into his back. He grunts deeply as your soft lips drag over the sensitive skin of his arm, his eyes mesmerized as he watches your mouth move.

“Ungh, fuck, need that mouth.” He huffs before bringing himself down lower, allowing himself to kiss you desperately at the same time he picks up the pace of his hips.

You grip his biceps tightly on either side, gasping and whining as the head of his cock teases your sweet spot with every motion. As you begin to tighten around him, he picks up his pace once more, fucking into you so fluidly and persistently, burying himself inside you as he pounds you into the leather. In seconds, you’re screaming his name as he drags you over the edge to your release. When you tighten around him again, that’s all he can stand and he growls loudly as he empties himself into you, collapsing on top of you after he does. The two of you lay there panting for a while, your fingers dragging lazily through his short hair.

Eventually, he lifts his head and looks at you, that same smitten teenager look in his eyes. The two of you share a deep, knowing look before your smiles return again.

He sits up slowly, pulling himself out of you as he does, and then helps you sit up next to him. You watch each other as you both do your best to clean up and put your clothes back on, and once you’re both dressed, he smirks at you.

“I know this is our first date,” He drawls, “But I was wonderin’ if you’d like to come home with me.”

You eye him playfully.

“Only if I get to stay in the morning.” You quip back.

“Oh, Sweetheart, you’re gonna stay forever.”

With that, he helps you out of the car and into the front seat, then hops in next to you and starts the drive home.

One of his hands is on the steering wheel and the other immediately lands on your bare knee as he drives, his thumb caressing the sensitive skin there.

You get home quickly, and the two of you giggle and flirt your way into the kitchen to get some more drinks. You reach into the fridge to grab a couple beers, and when you turn around he’s right there, picking you up and placing you onto the silver table in the middle of the kitchen.

The metal is cold on your thighs, but it’s no match for the heat coming off of Dean’s body as he moves himself in between your legs. He takes the beers from your hands and places them on the counter next to you, before bringing his hands right back to move up and down your thighs.

You watch him, mesmerized as his bright eyes and thick eyelashes flick over your body, his calloused hands sending sparks through you. One hand trails up your thigh, up your side, and grips the side of your head. He brings his face next to yours, his lips just barely brushing your ear, his warm breath dancing through the hairs at the nape of your neck.

“Told you I’m gonna prove myself to you.” He whispers, his tone breathy. “I meant it.”

With that, he pulls away, dropping to his knees in front of you - and he looks so beautiful as he does, that your breath hitches in your throat at the sight. Gently, he spreads your legs and pushes up your skirt, growling subtly in his throat as he eyes you hungrily. He brings his mouth closer to your throbbing clit, and the heat of his breath against it sends a chill throughout your body.

“Dean,” You huff, your tone needy, “I-"

“Uh-uh, Sweetheart. You don’t need to tell me what you want this time.” He murmurs. “I know.”

And with that, he brings his mouth down onto you. His lips instantly close around your sensitive clit as he applies pressure with his tongue. You gasp in pleasure, your hands gripping the edge of the table on either side of you as the sensation overtakes you. He wraps his big arms under your thighs to steady you as he continues to move his soft mouth on you. He opens his mouth wider, his tongue now licking over the entirely of your wet folds as he gently and methodically rubs your clit with his thumb. Your back arches off the table and you whine loudly, but he tightens his grip and holds you in place, his mouth never once leaving your body.

He pulls away for just a second, and when your eyes connect with his, you swear you could cum from the heated desire in them alone. Then, he dives back in, this time fucking you with his tongue as his thumb continues it’s gentle circular motion over your slick clit. Your body is buzzing now, every nerve awake with your need for him. He increases the pressure ever so slightly, and you throw your head back against the table, arching your back even further and nearly leaping off the table altogether.

He presses you down again, using the hand that’s not rubbing your clit to push on your lower stomach, not only holding you in place but also zeroing every one of your senses in on the spot where he continues to fuck into you.

“Oh, fuck, Dean,” You gasp, barely able to breathe around how good it all feels.

“That’s right, baby,” He huffs, only pulling his mouth off of you long enough to get his words out, “Come on, Y/N.”

He once again wraps his whole mouth around your clit, switching his mouth and his hand to allow himself to push two thick fingers inside of your dripping core. He curls his fingers, his mouth licking and sucking and slurping, and your hands fly to his hair as your legs begin to tighten around his face. He just barely lifts his mouth once more, his lust-blown eyes connecting with yours for only a second.

“Give it to me, girl.”

His mouth goes back to work on you, his fingers still moving inside of you, and you throw your head back hard against the table as you cum. You’re moaning and panting and digging your nails into his scalp as he continues his movements, only slowing them when he feels you loosening your grip around him and gradually working you down from your high.

Your chest heaves as you continue to lay back against the table, and he stands slowly, admiring what he’s done to you as he swipes his palm over his mouth and chin, wiping away some of your slick and licking his lips to taste the rest.

You turn to look at him and he helps you sit up and pull your skirt back down, that same youthful glint in his bright eyes. You grin languidly at him, before pulling him in to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue when you do.

“Well, I’d say you’ve definitely proven yourself tonight, tough guy.” You chuckle when you pull away from the kiss.

He grins cockily as he helps you off the table, letting you stand on quaking legs.

“Night ain’t over yet.” He says as he grabs the two bottles of beer, pops the caps, and hands one to you.

You grin at him mischievously as you take it, wrapping your lips around the tip and taking a long sip at the same time you walk out of the kitchen toward the library, swinging your hips and feeling his eyes on you the whole time.

“Well, then, maybe we should head to your room.” You hum mischievously, knowing he’s following you into the library without even needing to turn around.

You’re only halfway through the library when he’s right behind you, gently but firmly pinning your body between the table and his own. You put your beer down onto the table with a loud clink, and he follows suit.

You feel his hardness press against you as he pushes your hair to the side, trailing his lips over your shoulder and the back of your neck.

“Yeah, see,” He rasps into your skin, “The problem is that my room is just too far away,” He kisses your soft skin, “And I need you right now.”

“Is that so?” You breathe, closing your eyes as you feel his lips moving against you.

“Mhmm.” He hums, “That alright with you?”

You smile, pushing your ass back against him and pulling a groan from deep within him.

“More than alright.” You whisper.

His right hand begins to pull your skirt up once more as his left hand trails up your side and to the middle of your back, gently pushing you forward until your chest and stomach are flush against the table. You spread your legs for him, and he groans again when you do, taking his hands off of you only long enough to rid himself of his shirt.

His warm palms are back on you in an instant, kneading and massaging your ass and thighs. You press yourself further against him, and again he knows exactly what you want. He reaches down and undoes his belt and his buttons, pushing his jeans and boxers down and pulling his hard length out as he does. He furrows his brows and bites his lip as he runs the throbbing head through your wet folds.

The feeling is electric when he does, and you moan in need as you suddenly realize how empty you feel without him inside of you. You arch your back once more, and his fingers dig into your skin.

“Shit, Sweetheart,” He moans, “You ready?”

“Please, baby.” You murmur.

He closes his eyes and growls when you say it, hardly able to keep himself composed, before slowly pushing inside of you. You immediately dig your nails into the table, moaning against the wood as he fills you. He hisses as he feels your tight walls around him, and he practically falls forward over you for a moment, gripping your hip in one hand and the table in the other to steady himself.

He stills for a moment, and you feel his hot breath on your shoulder as he lets the sensation wash over the both of you. He kisses the center of your back sloppily before standing up straight once more, now gripping your hips in both hands. He pulls back slowly, then snaps his hips, driving himself into you once more.

He gradually picks up pace, his fingers gripping your hips with a bruising strength that only turns you on more, and you’re screaming his name against the table as it begins to shake and scrape against the floor, moving beneath the force of Dean’s thrusts.

You hear him whine and grunt behind you, and when he picks up his pace once more it rocks the whole table, sending your beer bottles tumbling off the table and clattering to the floor. The beer spills out on the ground beneath, and neither of you have the rational capability to care.

You’re near the edge, and you feel yourself about to snap, when he suddenly stops and pulls out. Before you have a chance to be confused, he spins you around and lifts you on to the table, grabbing your face urgently in his hands.  
“Need to see you.” He huffs, his eyes lust-blown and desperate.

He pushes back into you and your eyes go wide with pleasure, your arms wrapping around the back of his neck and a broken whine escaping your lips.

All it takes is a few more long, thorough thrusts, and you’re coming all over his cock. He watches you intently as you cum, and that’s what brings him to his own peak as well. His hips stutter and he squeezes you even tighter, growling out his orgasm.

He rests his head on your shoulder, his hands resting on the table on either side of you as he breathes heavily and you both pull yourselves together again. With a deep breath he stands up straight, tucking himself into his jeans and once again helping you stand, your wobbly legs hardly able to hold you up at this point.

You shimmy your skirt down once more, and he eyes you adoringly when you do.

“What?” You ask with a smirk.

“That dress is friggin mind-blowing,” He licks his lips as he checks you out, “But how about we finally get it all the way off of you, huh, Gorgeous?”

You raise your eyebrows and lick your own lips, and he reaches his hand out to you.

You take it, and before you have a chance to react he’s pulling you into him and then throwing you over his shoulder. You’re giggling in surprise, and he’s chuckling as he’s got one arm wrapped around your legs and the other on your ass, walking you down the hallway to his room.

He kicks his door open and walks toward his bed, dropping you down carefully. Before he lets you go, fully, though, you grab his hand and drag him down on top of you. He laughs out in surprise, pushing himself onto his forearms above you and allowing himself to look at you.

When he does, both of your smiles slowly fade as you look at each other in wonderment. He runs his hand over your soft hair, and you run your own hands up over his bare back. The two of you stay this way, looking at each other, just soaking each other in, for a few long moments.

Finally, he brings himself down and kisses you softly. Your lips move together once more, and the two of you are all teeth and tongues and needy breaths as the passion of the kiss increases every second. He pulls his lips from yours to trace them down your neck and over your chest, once again pulling the straps of your dress down off of your shoulders as he does.

He sighs thoughtfully as he looks at your bare chest in front of him, and he brings his lips – red and swollen from all your interactions already – down onto your hardened nipple. He grips the other breast as he does, tweaking and pinching at your other sensitive bud.

You let out a shaky exhale of arousal, and inhales at the same time, breathing in your scent and nibbling at your skin as he trails his teeth and tongue down over your ribcage and stomach, pulling your dress down the whole way as he does.

When he reaches your legs, he sits back, running his rough hands softly over your leg as you lift them one at a time, allowing him to pull your dress the rest of the way off and kicking off your heels at the same time. Once you’re completely naked in front of him, he sighs again, his fiery green gaze heating your entire body all at once.

“You really are somethin’ to see, Y/N.” He whispers, his voice dripping with affection.

You let out another shaky breath, your stomach flipping at just the way he’s looking at you.

“Could say the same to you, Winchester.” You breathe.

He smiles at you before bringing himself forward again, kicking his own boots off as he does. You reach down and grab at his jeans, pushing them and his boxers down until they’re far enough that he’s able to kick them off, too. Once he’s bare above you too, you can’t help but run your hands over his back, his shoulders, his arms, his chest – feeling every last inch of him under your palms. He closes his eyes at the feeling, and when he finally opens them, the look you share leaves you breathless.

His jade eyes are glistening, a genuine lightness exuding from his features. All you can think, more than anything else right now, is just how good happiness looks on Dean Winchester.

“Need to be inside you again,” He grunts, and he says it as if his very life depends on it.

“I need you inside me again.” You murmur back, pulling him closer to you as you do.

He huffs out in desire, lining his hard cock up with your quaking center. He looks at you once more, as if checking once more to make sure you’re ready, and then pushes inside you again. You don’t just feel him as he enters you, you feel the emotion behind every twitch and strain of every one of his rolling muscles.

You both gasp as he moves inside of you, his hips falling immediately into a steady rhythm. He looks down, and you watch him silently admire the ring hanging around your neck as it bounces against your chest with every thrust. He lifts one of your legs up high around his waist, running his fingers roughly over your sensitive skin. You lift your waist to meet his hips each time he moves, and he hisses and furrows his brows at the feeling. You moan as well, the angle you’re sharing now allowing him to hit you especially deep.

“Oh, fuck, that’s it baby. Take it like that. Right there.” He grunts, his eyes locked on your every movement, “Right there.”

You whine his name and he releases your leg, bringing one of his large hands up to grip your wrists and push them above your head, holding them there as he comes down to kiss you once more, never slowing his pace inside of you. You kiss him back, moaning into his mouth as he picks up his pace and buries himself into you over and over again. The sensation is overwhelming, the pleasure so white hot that it feels as if he’s cutting right through you in the most magnificent way.

The smell of his skin and the sound of his breath and the feel of his body consume you completely. You feel the coil inside you tightening, and he feels it, too. He breaks from the kiss to bring his lips to the shell of your ear, and his panting breaths each time he thrusts might be enough to make you cum right now.

“Just you and me, Sweetheart,” He rasps breathlessly, his hand still holding both of yours, his other hand clutching the other side of your face, “Let go with me.”

With that, your orgasms shatter the both of you at once. You cry out Dean’s name and he lets go of your hands, allowing you to throw your arms around him and grip onto him to ride out the high together. He grips onto you just as tight, pressing his forehead against yours, and you taste his sweet breath mingling with your own as you both huff out your pants of ecstasy. 

You both eventually come down, and your whole body trembles as he pulls himself out of you and rolls onto his back next to you. You’re reeling from the way every inch of your body feels, and the goosebumps you see on his skin tell you that he is, too.

As the two of you try to catch your breath, he turns to look at you.

“Not a bad first date, huh?” He asks, breathless.

You laugh, still staring up at the ceiling as your chest heaves.

“You know what, handsome? You might even get a second one.” You pant.

He doesn’t say anything, and that’s when you turn to look at him, too. And it’s like his lush green eyes are literally glittering as he gazes at you, so clear and vivid and god damn dazzling. He’s got that same boyish look on his face, like a kid who just fell in love for the very first time. He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t have to. You just look back at him, your own eyes sparkling as you learn and relearn every crinkle and crease and freckle decorating his enchanting face.

After a few moments of this perfect silence, the two of you break out into ridiculous grins. He rolls over, laying above you and capturing the side of your face with his calloused hand once more. He looks down at you tenderly, before that signature cocky smirk appears on his face again.

“Well, Sweetheart, how about we have that second date right now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH for reading!!!! I know I always say this, but after 75 chapters I'm literally amazed you guys are still into this. It's so awesome.
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this. And because you all know me, you know it's time to get back to that angst I love so damn much.
> 
> Thanks again <3


	76. Chapter 76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and the Reader had a beautiful night together, but how long can the peace last?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> This is a really short chapter just moving us toward what's to come. Life's been hectic as it tends to be this time of year, but I just had to give you guys something. I will of course be introducing The Darkness. But you all know me well enough to know I'm doing it all my own way. ;-)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

You and Dean wake to a gentle knocking on the bedroom door.

“Do I even wanna know why the table in the library is halfway across the room and there’s beer all over the floor?” Sam’s voice questions from the other side.

The two of you look at each other groggily for a few seconds before you both burst into laughter. You hear Sam chuckle to himself.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He laughs, and then you hear his footsteps walking away.

Dean looks at you once more, his goofy smile fading into a look of pure admiration.

“Mornin’, Gorgeous.” He rasps.

You admire him silently. Never have a set of eyes made crow’s feet so beautiful. And damn, if your heart stomach doesn’t do backflips every time you see his.

“Good morning, Winchester.” You hum back.

“Hey,” He murmurs, his voice gravelly and thick, “You remember how we were plannin’ to spend a whole week in bed all those months back? After all that demon crap?”

“How could I forget?” You answer with a smile.

“Well, I say there ain’t no better time than the present to try that again.” He drawls.

Your grin instantly widens.

“C’mon, Sweetheart,” He goes on, “You, me, pizza, whiskey, sex, and crappy movies. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds like my kind of fairy tale.” You croon.

He chuckles then, genuine and deep, and your heart races.

Reluctantly, the two of you pull yourselves out of bed to get dressed quickly and run out for all the supplies you’ll need for this glorious week together. As you’re getting dressed, you see him admiring his fingerprints all over your body from the night before. His gaze alone heats you up all over again, and it takes all you have not to rip both yours and his clothes right back off.

You both head out to the library, and there you see Charlie sitting at her laptop as Sam finishes cleaning the beer off the floor.

“Ah, shit, Sam, you didn’t have to do that. I’m sorry.” You say.

He shakes his head with a smile, “Nah, it’s fine. Really. No big deal.”

“We should have cleaned that last night,” You explain, “But we were just-"

“Ah-ah!” Sam raises his hand in defense as he sits down at the table next to Charlie, “Nope. Please, I really don’t wanna to know.”

Charlie raises her eyebrows and looks up from her laptop at you and Dean.

“Well… I do.” She says with a playful smirk.

You and Dean laugh at her, the two of you sitting down across from them as you do. It’s then that Sam notices the ring hanging around your neck. His eyes widen as he looks at it, and he looks from the ring to Dean in surprise. Dean just looks back at him confidently, and that’s when a smile explodes across Sam’s face. He looks back at you, his smile unwavering.

“Looks good on you.” He states, and you can’t help but grin widely back. He doesn't say anything else, and he doesn't need to. Because the pure pride in his eyes says it all.

“So, how was your dork movie?” Dean asks.

Sam’s smile fades immediately, and he looks over at Charlie.

“It was good!” Charlie says, trying to sound upbeat. “But…”

“But what?” You ask, now concerned.

“Well, I was just playing around on my computer on the way home, seeing if there were any little hunts around for Sam and I to deal with on our drive back here. And… well…”

“Well what, kiddo? Spit it out.” Dean pushes.

“We think she found a hunt.” Sam interjects. “But it’s not a little one.”

You and Dean look on in worry. Charlie looks at the two of you and sighs before finally clarifying.

“Dozens dead, all in the span of a couple days.” She states, spinning her laptop around to display the article on it as she goes on, “Looks like people just straight up killing each other for no good reason. Husbands killing wives, parents killing children, complete strangers killing each other on the street. All sudden, all violent, and all completely unprovoked.”

You swallow hard as your eyes scan the article in front of you, and your stomach drops when you notice the most important detail.

“Charlie…” You murmur. “This all started in Nebraska?”

She nods. “One town over from where you guys were when we got the Mark off of Dean’s arm. And… the first murder happened about an hour after the Mark was removed.”

You look over at Dean, and watch as the color fades from his face. You watch as he begins to blame himself for every one of these deaths. He looks at you guiltily, and you both silently acknowledge that your dreams of a week in bed together have been dashed once again.

That’s always how it seems to work for you two.

“It gets weirder.” Sam states.

“Of course it does.” You grumble.

“It started in the one town, went through a few people there, and then moved to another town right next to it. Whatever this is… it’s like it’s traveling through these towns and leaving a crap load of destruction in it’s wake.”

“Sounds like the kinda thing something called “The Darkness” might do.” Dean murmurs sharply.

None of you say anything for a moment, because of course it’s what you were all thinking.

“What’s it travelling toward?” You finally ask.

Sam and Charlie exchange hesitant looks, and Sam swallows hard before answering. He looks from you, to Dean, then back to you nervously before he finally gives his answer.

“Us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to quickly say how much I adore you all and the support you give me and my story. You have no idea how often you guys completely make my day. Even when the year's been rough in so many ways for all of us, sharing it with you guys and this show and this story has helped. So, thank you.
> 
> Happy, Happy Holidays and New Year guys! Wishing for the absolute best for all of you. <3


	77. Chapter 77

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What will the Reader and the boys learn about The Darkness?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> Happy New Year! I hope you all had an amazing holiday season and are continuing to stay healthy and safe, wherever you are. The world has somehow managed to outdo itself with the craziness lately, so I hope everyone's doing okay. I'm here for ya.
> 
> I had fun with this chapter and I'm just really excited for this journey with all of you. I hope you enjoy!

“Us.” Sam says.

This thing – whatever it is – is heading right toward all of you. And unfortunately, that’s just one more reason to believe it actually could be The Darkness.

You see Dean tense up further when Sam says it, and the room is eerily silent for a few long seconds.

“Alright.” Dean suddenly murmurs gruffly, standing from the table abruptly as he does. “Well I guess we better go get it first, before our fuck up kills anybody else.”

With that, he turns and marches out of the room.

You look at Sam and Charlie, and they look back at you sheepishly.

“He’s right, we do have to deal with this.” You say quietly. “But I’ll talk to him first.”

The both nod at you, and you stand and begin to follow him. You stop yourself, turning to look at them once more.

“And hey-" You state, drawing their attention to you again. “Just like I’m not gonna let him blame himself,” You gesture down the hall after Dean, “…I won’t let you blame yourselves, either. We all made the decision to do that spell. And we don’t even know what this is yet. And even if it is The Darkness, I’d still do that spell all over again for him. Wouldn’t you?”

They both listen to you intently, and you can see that some of their stress melts away when you put things into perspective for them.

“Hells yeah, I would.” Charlie says quietly, and Sam looks at her before nodding once again in agreement.

You smile subtly at them before turning to head down the hallway after Dean. As you walk, you bite down the rising feeling that you’re trying not to let anyone see. The feeling that yeah, maybe you are all to blame. If this came from the spell, then it’s here because of the actions you all took and the decisions you all made. But despite that, what you told Sam and Charlie is the truth. No matter the consequences, you’d save Dean. You’d save any one of them. Every time. And you won’t lie to yourself about that.

When you reach Dean’s room, you’re not at all surprised to see him hastily packing a duffel in his room, throwing clothes and weapons into the bag just a little harder than he needs to. You knock gently on the open door before making your way inside.

“Hey, handsome.” You say calmly.

His tense green eyes look at you briefly, before he continues with what he’s doing.

“Hi.” He answers.

You advance toward him, reaching out to place a hand on his forearm and stop his frenzied movements. As soon as you touch him he pauses, his eyes once again landing on your face, this time laced with desperation as well as frustration.

“You know what I’m gonna say.” You state.

He sighs and shakes his head.

“Yeah, I know.” He says, exasperated. “You’re gonna tell me that it’s not my fault, right? That all those people aren’t dead right now just so I get to have a smooth arm?”

You furrow your brows when you hear the pain in his voice.

“But how the Hell can that be true, huh?” He goes on, his face etched with guilt. “We all know that whatever’s goin’ on right now, it’s a result of that damn spell. I mean, Nebraska? That ain’t a damn coincidence. So whatever’s killin’ those people, it’s killin’ them because the spell that saved me, let it out. So, please, tell me why I shouldn’t blame myself for that?”

There’s a bite to his tone, but you know it’s not directed at you. It’s just the venom he wants to release on himself. But you won’t let him.

“Remind me, Dean, what were the ingredients for that spell?” You ask.

He freezes what he’s doing, his eyes looking at you in confusion.

“Hm?” You push. “What was the incantation?”

He just continues looking at you, dumbfounded.

“Oh, right, you don’t know.” You say. “Because you didn’t do the spell. Alright then, how about this - how’d you get the stubborn witch to perform the spell?” You ask, but he still has no response for you.

“Oh, that’s right.” You go on. “You didn’t do that, either. That would be me.” You take a step toward him, your serious eyes boring into his. “I’M the one who pushed for this spell to be done. I’M the one who threatened Rowena into doing it. So… you really wanna blame someone? I’m right here.”

His lips part, but he still doesn’t have an argument yet. Eventually, he just furrows his brows and looks down, shaking his head as he does.

“I won’t blame you.” He whispers. “I’d never blame you.”

“Then why are you blaming yourself?” You ask. “Because we did the spell to save you? Dean, you are always saving everyone else. And if that spell was to save someone else, then you would’ve done it in a heartbeat.”  
He looks back up at you, his eyes soaking you in.

“You may not believe it, tough guy, but you’re just gonna have to accept that you deserve to be saved, too. And that I will always do what I need to in order to save you - fuck the consequences. And you really need to wrap your thick head around the fact that as long as Dean Winchester is in the world, there is no limit to the lives that will be SAVED. There are a Hell of a lot of people alive today because of you.” You step toward him again, placing a hand on his cheek. “And I’m one of them.”

His glistening eyes just stare down at you for a while, before his tense body finally relaxes into your touch.

“I know you can’t help but blame yourself. It’s in your nature.” You utter with a slight smirk. “But you’re not about to be brooding and depressed for the foreseeable future. I won’t allow it. I just got you back.”

He studies your face intently, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

“Talk to me, Winchester. What are you thinking?” You ask as you study him back.

“Just thinkin’ about the absolute god damn mess I would be if I didn’t have you.” He answers with a grin.

“Oh, so you think you’re not a mess?” You smirk back tauntingly.

He raises his eyebrows and wraps a large arm around your back to pull you into him.

“Oh, well aren’t you funny.” He drawls before bringing his lips down onto yours.

A few minutes later, you and Dean head back out into the library, where Charlie and Sam are clicking away on their laptops, no doubt diligently researching The Darkness. They look up when they see the two of you, and they both silently throw you appreciative glances when they realize you were able to get Dean out of his head.

“We good?” Sam asks.

“Peachy.” Dean replies sarcastically.

“Tantrum’s over. For now.” You answer with a smirk. Dean shoots you a look, and Sam and Charlie laugh to themselves.

“Well,” Sam sighs, “We got nothing on The Darkness. Whatever it is, Death wasn’t kidding about it. This thing is ancient.”

“Yeah.” Charlie agrees, “Like, so ridiculously freaking ancient that there isn’t even anything written or recorded about it. Like, anywhere.”

“Lovely.” You say. “So we’re flying blind here.”

“Looks that way.” Sam answers.

“Hey, kid.” Dean says, looking over at Charlie. “You’ve been a big help lately. Can’t even thank you enough for all you’ve been doin’ for us. But, you got a life. I’m sure you’ve got some great big nerd festival to get to. We can handle this, okay? I’m done puttin’ you in danger for a while.”

You look at Charlie, unsure what her reaction will be for a few seconds. Eventually, she sighs and smiles as she looks around at the three of you. She closes her laptop and stands as she puts it in her backpack.

“Fine.” She says. “But I’m only leaving because Y/N is with you two big lugs and I know she’ll keep you both safe.”

You wink at her, and she grins back. She turns to look up at Sam, and he wraps his arms tightly around her, holding her close for a while. When they pull away, he looks down at her thoughtfully.

“Thank you for everything, Charlie. Seriously.”

She waves him off. “Ah, just another Tuesday with the Winchesters, am I right?”

You all chuckle, and she makes her way over to you. You smile at her, and before you can register it, she’s throwing herself forward and wrapping her arms around you.

“You’re the coolest person I’ve ever met.” She mutters into your shoulder.

You laugh and hug her back.

“Back at you, Your Highness.”

She pulls away and grins at you once more before turning to Dean. He nods at her, then grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her tightly into his chest. He wraps his arms around her and rests his chin on top of her head, holding her there for a moment.

When she pulls away and looks up at him, he looks back at her earnestly.

“Thank you, kiddo. For everything.”

“Anytime, Dean.” She answers genuinely, before a grin once again plasters her face. “And that ‘nerd festival’ you were talking about? It’s called Comic Con. And it’s awesome. And you’re right, I do need to get there.”

You all laugh at that, and she makes her way to the stairs before turning around to deliver one final wave.

“Peace out, bitches.” She announces playfully before jogging up the stairs and out the door.

You all watch her thoughtfully as she leaves, before turning to each other and realizing it’s time to get serious again.

“So… Nebraska?” You ask.

Sam nods. “Nebraska.”

About half an hour later, the three of you are packed and climbing into the Impala. The boys are in the front as always, and Dean’s throwing one of his favorite old tapes into the deck. It’s a sunny day, and despite the uncertainty ahead of you, you feel good. You’ve killed more than the average hunter’s share of demons. You’ve been dead or on the verge of death more times than you can count. You’ve faced off against the Devil.

And you’ve got Dean back. Again.

So, whatever The Darkness is, you’re not afraid of it. Hell, bring it on.

You drive through most of the day, and you’re all exhausted when you finally make it to Nebraska. The three of you book a room, and Dean runs out for a late dinner while you and Sam work on looking into some of these crazy, seemingly unprovoked murders that have been happening in the area. The more you dig, the more interesting it becomes. People aren’t just killing each other. Some are just vandalizing each other’s property, or getting into fist fights on the street. And then, there are witness statements that show some family members seemed to kill each other over minor things. Wives are killing their husbands over suspected cheating. Parents killing their children when they break curfew. People who hardly even know each other, killing each other on the street over online disputes about politics and religion. Ultimately, you and Sam determine that over and over lately, petty arguments that would otherwise not last longer than a few minutes are now suddenly resulting in death.

Now you just need to figure out why.

Dean gets back with dinner and you catch him up, and you all plan to head to the local jail in the morning to interview some of the most recent killers and try to find out what the Hell made them decide to hop off the deep end for what seems like no good reason at all.

After you eat, the three of you are too exhausted to do any more than sink into bed. Dean crawls into the bed behind you, coiling a large arm around your waist and pulling you into the warmth of his firm chest.

“So, uh, that week in bed.” He rasps quietly into your ear. “Seemin’ more and more like a pipe dream every time, huh?”

You can hear the smile in his voice, but his tone is also laced with longing.

“Oh, I don’t know, handsome,” You whisper, turning your head slightly until your lips nearly brush his, “We’ve overcome some pretty tough odds in the past. It could happen someday.” You smirk.

His grin widens, and then he kisses you deeply. You inhale his scent, and your whole body relaxes at the feeling of his lips and the touch of his fingers as they gently pull you even closer to him. After a moment, you turn around and settle back against him, and the two of you begin to drift off in the comfort of each other’s touch, both of you fighting the nagging concern of what you may discover in the morning.

The next day, the three of you are up early and heading to the police station. When you meet the local authorities, it becomes quite obvious pretty fast that they’re all baffled by what’s going on. You all go to meet with the Sheriff, and he looks at the three of you gloomily when you ask him about the murders.

“Never thought somethin’ like this would be happening in our little town.” He looks somber as he says it. “I mean, these are good, God fearin’ people and now… I can hardly keep up with all the crazy.”

Sam clears his throat.

“Yeah, uh, Sheriff… you said that some of the killers are still here in holding cells?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” The Sheriff nods. “Had so many we had to ship some off to County, but we still got a few here. You’re more than welcome to talk to ‘em, but I don’t think you’re gonna get much. None of ‘em seem to have any remorse for what they’ve done.”

You thank the Sheriff and bring the individuals into the interrogation room one at a time to talk to them.  
The first is a woman who killed her sister for stealing her boyfriend back in high school. Another is a man who killed his wife because he was certain she was cheating on him with the gardener. Then, there’s a guy who killed his boss after years of being miserable at his job.

None of them have much to say, except that they don’t feel bad. Strangely, they all acknowledge that what they did was wrong. But they just don’t seem to care. They just don’t seem to be ABLE to care.

“Hey, what the Hell is with this, man?” Dean murmurs in between interviews. “I mean, I totally get wantin’ to off your asshole boss, but to actually DO it? I mean what are we thinkin’, possession?”

“No,” You shake your head. “No signs of sulfur, black smoke, ectoplasm. Plus none of these people have lost any time. They all acknowledge that they’re the ones who did the killing.”

Sam swallows hard. “I think I know what this is.”

Before he has a chance to answer, the last of the perps is ushered into the room and seated at the table in front of the three of you. It’s a young girl – maybe 18 – who murdered her dad. The police told you she wouldn’t say why she did it, but she was just a bit of a rebel - a ‘bad seed’ as they called it - and probably killed him for some drug money.

“Hey, kid,” Dean states authoritatively as he looks down at her, “Wanna tell us why you decided to kill your dad?”

She just glares up at him defiantly, and that’s when Sam decides to take a turn.

“Look,” He says calmly, looking down at her with those puppy dog eyes, “We’re just trying to understand what happened here. So, if you didn’t really do this, we need-"

“Oh, I did it.” She spits hatefully. “And I’d do it again.”

Sam furrows his brows. “Why?”

“Because he was an asshole. And he had it coming.”

This one’s different than the others. The others seem satisfied now, sated. Like one kill was all it took for them to be fulfilled. This one, she’s still angry. She looks like she’d kill a dozen more people if she were given the chance. She’s got this anger that feels weirdly familiar, and at first you’re not sure why. But the more you look at her, the more bruises you see. Faint ones, on her arms and chest, even her face.

That’s when it hits you, and suddenly you’re empathizing with this girl, killer or not.

You gesture for Sam and Dean to back up, and you drag the chair out and sit down directly across from her, looking at her with an understanding gaze.

“How long had he been hurting you?” You ask quietly, calmly.

Her eyes widen as she looks at you, and so do the boys’. You nod subtly to the bruises on her arms.

“How long?” You ask again.

She looks away from you, her enraged gaze burning a hole through the wall across the room, but she still doesn’t answer.

“Hey,” You murmur. “I get it, okay?”

She scoffs, looking back at you.

“Sure you do.”

You lean forward, the intensity and sincerity of your stare cutting through her.

“Trust me, I get it.”

Her exterior cracks slightly, and you can tell that she believes you. The boys exchange solemn looks, but you keep your attention focused on the girl. Finally, she answers you.

“Since I was 10.” She answers.

You close your eyes and nod before opening them and looking back at her once more.

“I’m sorry.” You murmur, and you mean it. You wish desperately that there was more you could do for her. But whatever happened to this girl, whatever made her and all the others snap, you can see that’s turned her into the kind of killer who won’t stop at just one. And with the familiar rage you see behind her eyes, you almost can’t blame her. The more you look, the more it feels as if you’re looking into a horrific funhouse mirror of your past.

You look at her earnestly for a few more seconds before standing suddenly and glancing quickly at the boys.

“I, uh… I think we’re done here.” You murmur before walking out of the room.

You rush down the station halls and out into the parking lot, your heels clacking as you walk to the Impala and lean against the side, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply.

Within seconds, the boys are right there with you, walking up to you quickly.

“Hey, hey.” Dean says, taking your face in his hands, “You alright?”

You open your eyes to find both of them looking at you in concern, and you can see in their eyes that they both know exactly why you had the reaction that you did, without you having to say a word.

You take another deep breath, and the feel of Dean’s rough palms on your skin helps to calm you further.

“Yeah,” You say with a subtle nod. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Their eyes linger on you for a bit longer, both of them studying you closely and making sure you really are okay. You manage a smile, placing your hands on top of Dean’s to gently pull them away from your face.

“I’m good, guys. Really.”

They both smile back at you, deciding not to push you, and the three of you climb back into the car. Dean loosens his tie before starting her, and you look at Sam as you’re pulling out of the parking lot.

“Sam, you said you think you know what this is. What is it?” You ask.

He sighs.

“I think these people lost their souls. Or, more specifically, I think these people’s souls were taken.”

You can’t hide the surprise that sweeps across your face, and Dean, too, turns to look quickly at his brother as he drives.

“I remember what it felt like,” Sam goes on. “To be soulless. I knew when I was doing something wrong or-or bad… but I did it anyway. I didn’t care.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t murder people when you were soulless.” You say.

“No, he was just a mega douche.” Dean grumbles, earning him a bitch face from Sam before Sam looks back at you.

“Yeah, but I was killing monsters. So, you know, still killing. Plus, this seems… I don’t know, different. When I didn’t have a soul, I didn’t feel anything. But those people, when they killed, they were full of-"

“Rage.” You state.

Sam nods.

“Okay, this whole thing’s friggin’ batty.” Dean says. “Sam didn’t feel anything without his soul, but these people are all full of rage without theirs? And some of the people who lost their souls didn’t hurt anybody, but others went around killin’ their damn neighbor? I’m lost.”

“Maybe it’s not just about them losing their souls… maybe it’s about what took their souls.” You breathe.  
They both eye you when you say that, anticipating an elaboration.

“If this is The Darkness that’s taking their souls, maybe it’s also bringing out whatever ‘darkness’ is in these people. Those people who didn’t have any bad history with anyone or any real pain in their past were the ones who didn’t react as badly. And then the people who killed, they’re the ones who had some type of history that made them react that way.”

Realization washes over Sam’s face as you talk, and he nods along with you.

“So basically their reaction to The Darkness taking their souls depends on how dark their lives are to begin with.” He joins in. “Which would explain why that girl was still so full of anger even after killing her dad.”

“But why is it taking their souls?” You ask.

“Who knows.” Dean says, as the three of you pull up to the motel. “But whatever this ‘Darkness’ is, it is one nasty mother.”

The three of you head back into the motel, change out of your FBI outfits, and get to work on once again trying to dig up anything you can about The Darkness. Right now, you’re all still so lost on this. You don’t know what the thing even IS, let alone how to possible find it or fight it. After countless hours of nothing, Sam passes out in his bed with an open book in his lap. You and Dean sit across from each other at the little table in the motel room and continue the research. After a few more moments, he looks up at you.

“Hey, you sure you’re okay?” He asks quietly.

You pause, taking the time to actually think about your answer before you give it, and looking at him honestly.

“Yeah.” You say with a nod. “I mean, seeing that girl, it…”

“Tell me.” He says.

“She only killed one person, Dean. I killed five.”

“And they all deserved it. Just like that girl’s dad.” He insists.

“I know. But now she’s going to jail and I just got away with it?”

He exhales a chuckle, his green eyes boring into you.

“Only you would think goin’ to Hell and bein’ tortured for hundreds of years is still somehow gettin’ away with it, darlin’.”

You swallow hard and look down, surprised by how affected you still are by this.

“Just… talking to her about it. Seeing her. It just brought me right back. To all of it.”

He hears the pain in your voice and jumps up, immediately rounding the table to grab you by the hand and pull you quickly to your feet.

“Hey, right here, Sweetheart, right here.” He rasps, wrapping one arm around you and tangling the other in your hair. “You’re with me. You’re not back there, you’re with me.”

You look up at his bright green eyes, and they stare through you, as they have so many times before. You wrap your arms around his back and smile at him.

“Hell yeah I am.”

He grins, nodding as he brings his hand from your hair, down your neck, and allows his thumb to brush over the ring lying against your chest. His long lashes flutter as he looks down at it, and his eyes sparkle when he looks back up at you.

“That’s right. Hell yeah you are.” He states, sounding almost as if he still can’t believe that’s true. “C’mon Gorgeous.”

He guides you over to the bed and pulls you with him down onto it with a playful chuckle. He grabs the remote and clicks the TV on, and the two of you lie there, watching trash television on low. You’re laughing to each other and he’s pulling you further and further into his chest as you get more and more comfortable. And before you know it, you’re both snuggling into each other and the mattress beneath you and allowing sleep to claim you.

You wake slowly, immediately noticing how empty the bed feels next to you. You blink your eyes and sit up, realizing the room is still dark other than the dull hazy light from the small TV. You glance over to see Sam still burrowed in his bed, but Dean nowhere in sight. You stand quietly, walking casually toward the bathroom and expecting to see him there.

When you don’t, your heart begins to beat just a little more quickly. You rush to open the motel room door, and you see the Impala parked right where Dean left her. You look quickly inside the car, and find it empty.

Now, your heart is outright pounding.

You grab your cell and dial Dean’s number, and you hear his phone ringing from the small table where he had left it the night before. You check under his pillow for his gun, and find that there, too.

Something’s wrong, and you can feel it in your gut.

You hurry over to Sam, shaking him awake.

“Sammy! Sam!"

He furrows his brows and wakes in utter confusion, until he sees the look on your face.

“What? What is it?” He asks urgently, sitting up quickly.

You look at him, sheer panic in your eyes now.

“Dean’s gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! <3


	78. Chapter 78

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's gone, and Sam and the Reader have no idea where he went - or who took him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!!
> 
> Hope everyone's doing well. I can't believe we've made it to Season 11 together. And I know I always say it, but I can't believe you guys aren't sick of me yet. I am so excited about what's to come in this story and I hope you are too.
> 
> Enjoy!

Any trace of sleepiness falls away from Sam immediately when you tell him Dean’s gone. He leaps out of bed and to his feet, the concern growing on his face.

He doesn’t question you, doesn’t think for a second that maybe you’re wrong, or you’re overreacting. He just believes you. Immediately; inherently.

“Impala?” He asks, his voice low but rushed.

“Outside.” You say. “He’s not in it. Cell’s still here, gun’s still here.”

Sam sighs, and the way he looks at you silently acknowledges that he knows that that’s a bad sign.

“Maybe he walked somewhere.” Sam tries to rationalize.

“This motel is the only place for at least a few miles in either direction.” You state, looking up at him. “And in your entire life have you ever known your brother to be a sleep walker? Because that would be news to me.”

Sam looks at you a bit longer, and you clarify.

“There is no way he went anywhere – knowingly – without us. Or without at least telling us. And definitely not without Baby.”

Sam clenches his jaw and nods. You both know you’re right, but your reasoning isn’t even really the point. The point is that you know Dean; you feel him in your bones. And you know someone – something – took him.

For a moment, you and Sam are almost frozen, neither of you sure how to approach looking for Dean with less than zero clues. Then, you both spring into action.

“I’ll take a spin and see if I can find him.” Sam says determinedly as he snags Dean’s keys off of the nightstand and heads for the door.

You nod, quickly seating yourself in front of his laptop and trying to hack into the motel’s security system. The kinds of motels you guys typically stay at don’t have cameras at all, much less those that work. But it’s worth a shot. With that, Sam’s out the door and you’re fervently typing away on the keys. 

In about ten minutes, you’ve determined that – as suspected – the motel “security” cameras are just for show. You’re about to move on to hacking the nearest stop light, hoping there’s a camera in one of those, when the motel door opens slowly. You look up from the laptop, only now just realizing how hard your heart is beating.

And it’s then that you see Dean walking through the doorway, a lost look on his face.

You leap from your chair and race to him, your eyes scanning him urgently and searching for any possible wounds. You don’t see any, and you glance behind him, expecting to see Sam behind him.

But you don’t.

Sam and the Impala are both still gone. Which means, somehow, Dean got back here on his own. It’s then that you look at his eyes. You’re trying to connect your gaze with his, but his eyes are so glazed over that you can’t. You grip his forearms, whispering his name as you do and trying to mask the shakiness of your own voice.

“Hey,” You whisper, tightening your grip on him slightly when he doesn’t answer you the first time, “Dean, are you okay? Please talk to me.”

When he hears the please, it seems to break him out of his trance. His unfocused eyes finally connect with yours, and it’s as if he’s actually seeing you for the first time. He immediately relaxes at the sight of you, letting out heavy, sharp sigh.

“You okay there, tough guy?” You ask again.

He looks at you a second longer before nodding his head subtly.

“Yeah,” He furrows his brows and briefly inspects himself, as if making sure it’s true before he continues, “Yeah, I’m a’right.”

“Where were you?” Your eyes are desperately searching his face, looking for some type of answer in his expression alone.

“I, uh…” He looks at you, and you can see the utter confusion still all over his face. He’s collecting his thoughts, and for those few seconds you don’t breathe at all.

“The Darkness.” He finally murmurs.

Your eyes go wide, but before you have a chance to respond you hear the roar of the Impala and the bright headlights as Sam whips into the spot in front of your room. He leaps from the car, his long legs bringing him to the two of you in just two giant strides.

“Hey, hey,” He says, gripping Dean’s shoulder with one large hand and looking intently as his brother’s face, “You alright?”

Dean nods at his brother, and you can slowly see him coming back to you further.

“Yeah, little brother, I’m okay.” He looks from Sam back to you, repeating himself for your sake. “I’m okay.”

“You said it was the Darkness.” You say, and now Sam’s eyes are the one’s widening in surprise.

“Yeah.” Dean states with another nod. “Yeah, one second I’m fast asleep next to you, and the next I’m in some field in the middle of nowhere. I wake up and I’m just surrounded by this black smoke and then-"

He stops suddenly, looking at you hesitantly as he does.

“And then what?” You ask.

He still looks unsure of himself, and you decide this whole thing probably is a lot for him, so you head to the mini fridge and grab a beer, handing it to him with a nod that tells him it’s okay for him to go on. He pops it open and tilts it toward you appreciatively before taking a seat on the edge of your bed and swallowing a few big gulps. You and Sam exchange quick, confused glances before Dean goes on.

“And then,” He focuses on the beer in his hand, “She walked out of the smoke.”

Sam furrows his brows. “Wait, who?”

Dean drags his eyes from his beer up to Sam.

“The Darkness.”

“Hold on,” Sam shakes his head in disbelief, “The Darkness is a woman?”

“Yeah.” Dean says before suddenly shaking his head, “Well, no – I mean – I don’t know. She’s this powerful cosmic THING, so not JUST a woman… But yeah, she’s a she. She said her name’s Amara.”

“And she didn’t hurt you?” You ask. Looking at him, he looks okay. But you have to be sure.

He looks at you intently, a small smile playing on the corners of his lips. He’s admiring you, admiring how concerned you are for him.

“No, Sweetheart, she didn’t hurt me.” He assures.

“And…” Sam clears his throat, “You – you still have your…”

Dean looks from you to Sam, knowing immediately what Sam’s talking about.

“My soul? Yeah, Sammy, still got that. Seriously, guys, I’m fine.”

“Okay, well, what did she want with you then?” Sam asks. “Did she admit she was taking the souls? Did she say why?”

“I asked her about the souls. She sure as Hell didn’t deny that she was doin’ it, but she also didn’t tell me why. She didn’t wanna talk about that. She, uh… she wanted to thank me. For lettin’ her out.” Dean states.

“But you didn’t let her out. We let her out.” Sam insists, looking quickly at you and then back to his brother. “We’re the ones who pushed the spell.”

“Yeah, well, I’m the one who had the Mark. So, lock and key. She seems to think we’re connected.” He nearly cringes when he says it, masking that with another sip of beer.

“Connected?” Sam asks.

Dean looks at you, and there’s guilt behind his eyes. You don’t know why, but the look on his face hits you in the gut. He looks at you a few more seconds before clearing his throat and looking back at Sam.

“She wasn’t very forthcoming, Sam. I mean, she thanked me and then she basically said she’s excited to be back and can’t wait to see what this world’s got to offer since it’s been billions of years since she’s been here. She also said she’s done here, in this town. Movin’ on to other things. But of course didn’t tell me where, or to what.”

“Do you believe her?” You ask.

“Yeah, actually, I do.” He says. “She seemed bored. Seemed like she was over this town and the people. After that, she said ‘bye’ and poof, I’m back outside the motel.”

“So, so what? No big evil plan?” Sam pushes.

“Not yet.” Dean says. “But it’s comin’. I know it is. She’s just gettin’ comfortable here on Earth. And once she does…” He trails off, but you and Sam can tell what he means.

Once she gets comfortable, she’s gonna destroy everything. The Darkness. Destruction. It’s what she is. And you can tell by Dean’s face that being around her has only convinced him of that further. And you can also tell that something more is bothering him. More than being dragged out of here in his sleep. More than the thought of the inevitable destruction The Darkness intends. Something more.

Something that he isn’t saying.

But you can also see how exhausted he is, and you can’t blame him. You know he’s told you everything there is to tell – or at least everything he’s willing to tell right now – and it’s still dark out, so the three of you can manage a couple more solid hours of sleep before you have to check out. As frustrating as it is, you all know there’s nothing else you can do right now. Dean has no idea where she took him, or if it was even nearby. And even if it was, you still know almost nothing about her – certainly not how to kill her. And she didn’t threaten Dean. It seems like, right now, all you can do is try to learn more about her while you wait for her to show herself again.

Sam tells his brother one more time that he’s glad he’s okay, before kicking off his shoes and slumping back into bed.

You turn to Dean, and he looks at you with heavy eyes.

“Okay,” You sigh, sitting down on the bed next to him, “I’m asking again. Are you sure you’re okay? Really okay?”

He looks down at his lap, and you see his jaw clenching and unclenching in the dim light.

“Keep in mind that I can see right through you.” You whisper with a smirk.

He exhales a quiet chuckle before licking his lips and finally looking back at you. He studies your face, a desperation in his eyes, like he’s trying to compose a sentence that will actually convey what’s going on in his mind, but just can’t quite seem to get there.

But it doesn’t matter.

Because you know him so well, you understand him so well, that you know what he’s feeling without a single word.  
“It freaks you out… that she says you have a connection. Doesn’t it?” You murmur.

A look of surprise crosses his face for only a second before it resolves into quiet acceptance. He swallows hard and hesitantly nods, his brows knitting together as he does.

“I don’t…” He searches for the words. “I want to be GOOD so god damn badly… and bein’ connected to her, that ain’t good. That’s pretty damn far from good. All I wanna do is prove to you – after everything I’ve done – that I… I mean, that I’m…”

You turn your whole body to him suddenly, gripping his knee and looking directly into his eyes.

“Hey, hold on there, tough guy. I have never – not for one second – questioned whether or not you’re good. If memory serves, I’m pretty sure I’ve reminded you how good you are a time or two.”

“You have,” He assures, “More times than I deserved. But now that the Mark’s gone, this is my chance to finally prove it to you.”

You shake your head and smile at him, and he looks at you expectantly.

“The only one who still needs convincing,” You lean closer to him and lower your voice further, “Is you.”

You watch that sink in, and when it does he just gazes at you, his eyes so bright you’d swear they’re glowing.

“So, some evil bitch says she has a connection to you. Doesn’t mean it’s true.” You say. “If you don’t feel it, then it’s not there.”

Suddenly, guilt flashes through his eyes once more – but he fights that off quickly and forces a smile.

“You’re right, darlin’. As usual.” He drawls with a wink. “Thank you.”

You see the insecurity on his face still, but decide not to push him any further. At least not tonight. Maybe he’s just tired. Or just still freaked out by the night’s events. Regardless, you’re exhausted. So you don’t fight him when he grins that signature grin of his and yanks off his t-shirt, handing it to you to change into. And you don’t fight it when he drags you under the blankets with him - you in only his t-shirt and him in only his boxers - wrapping himself around you from behind and falling asleep almost instantly in the curve of your neck.

The warm breath tickling your ear and the soft lips moving against your neck are what wake you. Your eyes flutter open with quiet hum of approval, and he hums back into your skin when he realizes you’re awake.

“Mornin’, Gorgeous.” He rasps, his voice thick from sleep.

“Good morning.” You murmur back happily.

He begins to drag his rough hand up and down your bare thigh, continuing to pepper kisses on your jaw and neck. You hum once more, relishing the feel of his soft mouth on your sensitive skin.

“Sammy ran out to gas up Baby and grab us some breakfast before we hit the road,” His hand trails up a little further, now toying with the bottom of his t-shirt that you’re wearing, “So, I’m bettin’ we got a solid 15 before he gets back.”

Heat begins to pool in your center immediately at his implication and his touch, and you instinctively press yourself back against him further.

“Is that right?” You ask quietly.

He growls as you press against him and he grows harder, now pushing his hand up under your shirt to palm and play with your breast.

“That’s right.” He whispers. “So whaddya say, Sweetheart?”

He squeezes and pinches at your nipple and it sends sparks to your core. You moan again, louder, and arch your back further. You feel him smile against your neck.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” He drawls.

You smile, bringing your hand behind you and reaching down to grip him through his boxers. His body jolts, and your smile widens. You rub him slowly, fully, and it’s only seconds before he’s growling desperately, shoving his boxers down and pressing forward, running himself through your slick folds from behind.

“I could spend hours on you right here, like this.” He grits, “If we only had the time. But trust me, I am gonna make this worth it.”

You whine at the sensation of his swollen tip brushing against your aching clit each time he presses forward, and you’re overwhelmingly desperate to have him inside of you. You arch your back a little more, allowing him better access and silently begging him to give you what you need. He huffs out in arousal, his hot breath fluttering through your messy hair.

“Fuck, yeah, Sweetheart. Atta girl.”

He grips your upper thigh, spreading you wider with his thumb and lining himself up with your soaking entrance. He huffs again when he feels how wet you are.

“You ready?” He pants.

“Hell yes,” You breathe back.

With that, he presses himself into you slowly, allowing you to stretch and take him in, inch at a time. You whine, feeling it burn so good as he fills you, and seconds later he’s bottoming out inside you.

“Ahhh,” He hisses in pleasure, his big hand gripping your hip tightly.

He stays this way for a moment, allowing you both to revel in the pleasure, before slowly pulling back and then pressing back inside. He feels so incredible, and you swear you can feel every ripple and ridge and inch of him as he moves inside of you.

“You feel so good,” You breathe, “So good, Dean.”

He picks up his pace gradually, his hips snapping into you over and over from behind, and then he suddenly reaches down and grabs your leg, lifting it up and hooking it over his, opening you up to him completely. This allows him to hit a whole new spot inside of you, even deeper, and you gasp as the sensation takes the air from your lungs.

“Ah,” He grunts, “So fuckin’ tight, my girl.”

The lustful adoration in his voice takes you even higher, and you reach your arm up behind you, gripping the back of his head and digging your nails into his scalp. He groans, picking up his pace again, his iron grip still holding your leg in place and keeping you spread for him. He’s drilling into you, the tip of his hard cock brushing your sweet spot each time he fills you and spreading warm electricity through you over and over again. You clench around him as you slowly begin to feel your orgasm building and he picks up his pace once again. You moan his name loudly and he releases your leg to bring his hand up and grip your face, turning your head just enough to connect his wanting lips with yours, never once slowing his movements inside of you.

You kiss him desperately, sloppily, your tongues dancing and lips glistening as you taste each other. You’re whining into his mouth, your whole body beginning to tingle with ecstasy. He pulls his mouth back, his hand moving down to grip your throat as his lust-blown green eyes pierce through you.

“So fuckin’ beautiful.” He grunts, his hips slamming into you from behind. He keeps his hand around your throat and you keep your leg thrown over his, keep yourself wide open for him as he continues to bring you closer and closer to your peak.

He suddenly digs his heels into the mattress, bearing down and somehow hitting you even deeper. You gasp, your hand slapping against his thigh behind you and gripping as tightly as you can, just needing something to hold onto as you feel yourself nearly losing control.

“That’s it, Sweetheart. Love watchin’ you come undone.” He growls. “You gonna cum for me?”

“Oh, God, yes,” You hardly manage to whine out between his thrusts.

“Good girl.” He huffs, before bringing his hand from your throat down to your clit. “Do it.”

He pants low, heated growls into your ear and presses down on your sensitive bundle of nerves and you’re seeing stars.

You screw your eyes shut and scream his name as you cum all over him, your orgasm so strong you’re barely able to breathe through it. You clench around him so tightly it takes him by surprise, and his big hand slams against your hip, gripping tightly as you squeeze his orgasm out of him as well.

“Ah, fu- Holy fuck!” He groans, his hips stuttering as he gasps and empties himself inside of you.

He tense muscles relax suddenly, the two of you practically jelly as he slumps against his pillow behind you, his hand still gripping you tightly and his body still inside of yours. He huffs against your neck, his breath sending goosebumps rippling over your sensitive flesh.

You smile, breathing heavily, still dazed from what he does to you. You slowly turn yourself around, and he groans at the loss of feeling as he slips out of you. You face him, and he grins lazily at you, his chest heaving as he does.

“Well, I’d say ‘good morning’ is an understatement.” You say with a smirk. “It is unfair what you to do me, Winchester.”

He chuckles, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your hip.

“Well, Sweetheart, I don’t know about that. Because what you do to me is just downright criminal.” He smirks back cockily.

You grin, and it’s then that the two of you hear the roar of the Impala’s engine pulling into the motel parking lot.

“Impeccable timing, tough guy.” You say as you stand, grabbing your bag.

“Well, what can I say, I’m good.” Dean quips back with a wink.

You chuckle, and his sparkling eyes admire you intensely as you saunter into the bathroom and close the door behind you.

About half an hour later, you and the boys have downed your coffee and bagels and are on the road back home. Dean steals glances at you all throughout the drive, and you feel your body buzzing from him the whole time, as if on a constant high from the morning. You make good timing on the drive back, and the three of you unpack and settle into the library, once again getting to work on researching the Darkness. After another couple hours of nothing, you lean back in your chair and let out a long sigh, noticing the frustrated looks on both boy’s faces as well.

“Alright, gentlemen,” You state as you stand, “It’s beer o’clock.”

Sam raises his eyebrows and laughs, “’Beer o’clock’? Oh God, Dean’s rubbing off on you too much.”

Dean glares at his brother but you just point a finger at him.

“Hey, watch it Ivy League,” You warn with a smirk, “Or I won’t get you one.”

Sam grins and raises his hands in surrender, and you smile back as you head toward the kitchen.

You open the fridge and grab three beers, then stand and shut the door, turning to make your way back toward the library. But just as you turn, the room around you goes dark and your vision blurs for a moment. You squeeze your eyes closed and open them again to steady yourself, and suddenly you’re surrounded by nothing but clouds of black smoke, the beers no longer in your hands.

You’re immediately on high alert, looking around and ready to reach for the knife in your boot at any second. Suddenly, there’s movement in the smoke in front of you, and it’s then that a woman steps out and into your view. And you know who – what - she is immediately.

Well, she’s beautiful. You can’t lie.

Her full hair falls over her shoulders, her big, dark eyes study you intently, and she’s wearing a long, low-cut, black dress.

“Well, pardon me, I didn’t know the attire was formal.” You quip. “I would’ve dressed accordingly. But then again, you snatched me here unexpectedly, so I guess I’m not really to blame.”

She doesn’t answer you. She takes a step closer to you, her eyes still diligently looking over you, studying your every feature and movement. You stand tall, your eyes narrowing at her as she continues to watch you for a few more long, tense seconds.

“Is there something on my face?” You remark sarcastically.

“You’re Y/N.” She finally states.

“And you’re The Darkness.” You respond. “But I guess since we’re already on a first name basis, I’ll just call you Amara.”

Your tone is dripping with attitude, and if she does pick up on it, she doesn’t let on. She just continues to look at you.

“Hey, listen, you brought me here, okay?” You say. “So if you’ve got something to say to me, why don’t you do it?”

The boys would be kicking you right now. Here you go again, mouthing off to a monster that undoubtedly has the potential to squash you like a bug at any moment. But that’s sure as Hell never stopped you before, and it’s certainly not gonna stop you with her.

“I was just… curious.” She states. Her tone is almost unsettlingly calm, her gaze strong but not threatening. At least not yet.

You’re getting impatient with her vagueness, and you decide to take the opportunity to ask a question of your own.

“Yeah, well, I’m curious, too. What’s the fun of stealing people’s souls, huh? Especially the soul of a young girl who’s already got a shit life.”

She looks confused by your question.

“It doesn’t matter to me where the soul comes from. A soul is a soul.”

You scoff.

“Yeah, well, I’d say it matters to them. So why are you taking them?” You demand.

Once again, she looks bemused, as if the answer should be obvious.

“I’m hungry.” She says. “I need to eat.”

You furrow your brows and glare at her as what she said begins to sink in. When it does, you scoff again.

“Eating souls? Really? Don’t you think that’s a little cliché?”

Once again, she ignores your boldness, taking another step closer to you, her eyes glued to you.

“How’s Dean?” She asks.

Just hearing her say his name irks you.

“He’s great, no thanks to you.” You grit. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“It is.” She declares. “He and I are connected.”

The anger bubbles in your chest and you open your mouth to spit something back, but she speaks up again before you have a chance.

“But he’s connected to you, too.” She says.

“Damn right he is.” You seethe. “But you’re wrong about his connection with you.”

She furrows her brows and shakes her head.

“I’m not.” She expresses. “He and I, we are connected. And he feels it, too. If he says he doesn’t, he is lying to you.” She tilts her head and looks at you quizzically. “But, you know him well enough to know that, don’t you?”

You clench your jaw and glare at her, your anger building. Because despite how much you hate it – she’s right. Still, you won’t let her see it. And you’ll never let her believe she’s got a shot at making Dean into whatever it is that she wants him to be.

“Yeah?” You ask. “Well I’d put money down that my connection’s a Hell of a lot stronger than yours.”

“It is.” She agrees with a nod, which takes you by surprise. “For now. But… that will change. He’ll see that he and I - us, together – it’s something that he simply cannot fight.”

You scoff again.

“Yeah, well, good luck with that. Because if the crap that he and I have already been through hasn’t been able to keep us apart, then you won’t be able to either. Plus, you wanna get to him, you gotta go through me. And trust me, I'm tougher than I look.” You finish with a cocky smirk.

She looks at you intently once more, studying you, waiting a few long seconds before she responds.

“You are… interesting.” She states. “I can understand why he has the bond he does with you. From what I’ve seen so far, most humans are… unremarkable. You seem to be an exception to that.”

You roll your eyes.

“If I had a dollar for every time I heard that from some narcissistic supernatural being…” You mutter.

She ignores you, continuing her little speech.

“Like I told Dean… I’m only here to explore. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve been here. Initially, I planned to find Dean first. Thought we would explore together. But it’s clear he’s not ready for that yet. So I’ll look around on my own first. Give him time to get comfortable with his feelings for me.”

You exhale sharply, narrowing your eyes and glaring daggers at her.

“Which feeling?” You spit. “Disgust or hate?”

She smiles at you.

“I’ll be seeing you both again, Y/N. Soon. Take care of him while I'm gone.”

Your stomach churns and your rage boils, but before you have a chance to answer, the smoke swirls once more and in seconds, you find yourself outside the bunker, dizzy but safe. You go inside, the big door creaking as you open it and you hear Sam and Dean’s worried shouts from down below.

When they hear the door they look up, wide-eyed, and the two of them breathe simultaneous sighs of relief when they see you. You start to make your way down the stairs, and Dean can’t even wait for you to get to the bottom. He races up, meeting you halfway, gripping your face tightly when he does.

“You okay?!” He asks, his green eyes searching your face.

You look deep into his eyes and share that same soul-scorching stare the two of you have always had, resting your hands on his when you do.

“I’m okay. Swear.” You whisper.

He looks at you a few more seconds before nodding and releasing you, and the two of you head down the stairs together. When you reach the bottom, Sam’s there, puppy-dog eyes looking down at you carefully.

“I’m fine, Sammy.” You answer him before he has the chance to ask the question.

“What happened?” Dean asks urgently. “We heard crashing in the kitchen and go in there to find shattered beer bottles and no you.”

“Yeah, where’d you go?” Sam asks.

“I’ll give you one guess.” You state, the annoyance lacing your tone.

They both look at you for a few seconds, and then Dean suddenly realizes.

“Son of a bitch.” He growls. “She took you, didn’t she?”

Sam’s eyes go wide, “The Darkness?! How is she here?”

“I don’t think she’s really HERE.” You say. “She seems like the kind of thing that can be everywhere and nowhere at the same time, y’know?”

“Well, what did she want with you?” Sam asks, his face still concerned.

“I guess just to scope out the competition.” You say, and you see the discomfort all over Dean’s face.

This time, Sam goes to grab a round of beer, and the three of you sit around the map table while you tell them about the things she said to you.

“Eating souls? Really?” Sam asks.

“Yup.” You say, swallowing a sip of beer. “Guess they’re her favorite snack. And no doubt making her stronger each time, too.”

“But she didn’t try to hurt you?” Sam asks.

“No, not at all.” You utter. “Just wanted to meet me, I guess. I don’t think she exactly sees me as a threat.”

“Yeah, well, she should.” Sam says with a small smile, drawing a smile from you as well.

“She just told me the same shit she told Dean,” You go on. “That she’s here to explore. That it’s been a long time. That she and him have a connection.”

You look at Dean, and see the guilt that’s been all over his face since you got back. He doesn’t say anything, and you can tell it’s because he just can’t think of any words to say.

“It doesn’t matter what she said, though, because we’re gonna stop her. Period.” You state determinedly.

Thankfully, you can tell that this eases the tension slightly. The three of you continue to hang out for a while longer, and after a couple more beers you’re ready for bed. Turns out being transported via black smoke can take a lot out of you.

You head to your room, and just as you’re walking in you can hear Dean’s footsteps behind you. You turn around and he’s there, his eyes searching yours.

“Hey.” He murmurs.

“Hi.” You answer.

“Can I come in?” He asks.

You smirk at him, “Duh.”

He walks into your room with you, closing the door behind him. When he looks at you again, the guilt on his face is so strong it makes your heart ache.

“I don’t want you to worry about what she said.” He says suddenly.

You sigh.

“I don’t think I am the one who’s worried.” You answer.

“What?” He asks, confused.

“I can see it all over your face, Dean.” You say. “I could see it from the moment you got back to that motel room after talking to her. It doesn’t bother you that she says you have a connection. What really bothers you is that whatever connection she’s talking about, you feel it.”

He suddenly looks almost scared, and you can see in his eyes that he’s prepared to deny it. But, the longer he looks at you, the more he knows that would be pointless, since you can always see right through him.

“I… I don’t want to. I don’t wanna feel it.” His voice is low, raspy, ashamed. “She’s evil. I - I hate her. And you, you are fuckin’ everythin’ to me. What I feel toward her, it’s not admiration. It- it isn’t love.” He grits his teeth, “It’s this unholy pull that makes me feel sick whenever I think about it. I can’t control it, I can’t stop it, I-"

“Hey,” You whisper suddenly, reaching out to him and placing a hand on his hip and the other on his face. He stops abruptly, looking down at you in desperation.

“You know what else she said?” You go on, “Why she even wanted to talk to me in the first place?”

He looks on, the shame still wracking face.

“She said that our connection - you and me - is so much stronger. Stronger than that connection with her. Even she can feel that, okay?”

He relaxes slightly but shakes head, looking down and licking his lips.

“What if she tries to hurt you, huh?” He murmurs. “Or kill you? To stop our connection?”

“Please, tough guy, she doesn’t stand a chance against little old me.” You say with a smirk. “And besides, when has death ever broken our connection before?”

He looks back up at you.

“Death can’t break this. Nothing can.” You insist. “Just like Alastair couldn’t, just like Lucifer couldn’t, just like the Mark couldn’t… and just like The Darkness can’t. And whatever connection you have to her, it isn’t your fault. And it won’t win against the connection we have, that’s for damn sure. I’m not worried handsome. You’re mine, and you’re stuck with me. You should know by now, I won’t let you go anywhere.” You finish with a smile.

His emotional green eyes look down at you attentively for a few long seconds, before he suddenly grabs you and pulls you in for a desperate kiss.

You inhale sharply, before wrapping your arms around him and melting into it. He’s pouring his feelings into it – into you – and you’re soaking him in entirely. After a few moments he pulls away and presses his forehead to yours, his big hands still tightly gripping your face.

“I promise you, Sweetheart, I’m not goin’ anywhere without you.” He whispers.

“I know.” You whisper back.

You pull away to smile up at him.

“Besides, when have you known me to be easily intimidated, huh? So, she’s got the hots for you. Big deal. Honestly, how can I blame her? I mean, look at you.” You raise an eyebrow and smirk mischievously.

His face lights up, and he grins back cockily.

“Look at me?” He drawls. “Darlin’, you ever seen yourself?”

With that, he leans down and kisses you again, reaching down and wrapping his hands under your thighs and picking you up, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist. One of his hands grips your thigh, and the other tangles in your hair. His tongue pushes past your lips and his grip on you tightens and your stomach starts to flip-  
And then there’s a knock at the door.

“Guys?” Sam questions.

You and Dean stop suddenly, and Dean squeezes his eyes closed and sighs deeply.

“Dammit, Sammy.” He grits quietly as he gently puts you down and steps back.

“Yeah, come in, Sam.” You say, laughing subtly as you quickly fix your hair.

Sam opens the door and steps in, his cellphone in his hand.

“Hey, so,” He starts, “I know we’re supposed to be laying low and focusing on The Darkness, but I just got a call from a friend who could use our help on a hunt.”

“Which friend?” Dean asks.

Sam smirks at Dean, and then looks at you.

“Y/N, you ever been to Sioux Falls?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU for reading, I hope you liked it!


	79. Chapter 79

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys take the Reader to Sioux Falls for a case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!!!!
> 
> I was so excited to write this chapter because I'm sure you have an idea who's going to finally be in it! I hope you enjoy and as always, I hope I do everyone justice.
> 
> Thanks for being here!

You and the boys get a few hours of sleep before heading back on the road again toward Sioux Falls.

The boys have told you about Jody Mills. She’s a cop, a hunter, and by all accounts a total badass. And most importantly, she’s someone who means a lot to both of them.

You’re actually nervous. What the Hell? You feel yourself get more and more jittery the closer you get to the South Dakota town. Honestly, you were a little nervous when you met Charlie, too, but you did a much better job of ignoring it. And yeah, meeting Charlie ended up being even better than you could’ve hoped. So no, of course you shouldn’t be nervous to meet another one of the boys’ friends.

But you are.

With this one, you feel like you’re being taken home to meet your boyfriend’s parents for the first time. You can feel it in the way they talk about her. Jody’s not really just a friend – she’s practically the closest thing these boys have to a mother.

And you… Well, you don’t have anyone but these boys in your life. You don’t have anyone special like this. And Sam and Dean, they only have a few. But the few they do have mean the world to them. So, the idea of one of those people potentially disliking you sets you on edge.

But why wouldn’t she like you, right?

Well, you’re damaged as all Hell. Surrounded and chased by a never-ending storm of trouble. You’re reckless and wild and violent. Except, you also just perfectly described the boys. And she loves them, right?

You silently mock yourself in the backseat of the car. Facing off against the most horrific of evil creatures doesn’t faze you, but the thought of having to impress another Winchester associate does. You are seriously not like other people.

You didn’t used to be this way. It used to be that there wasn’t a person or monster on Earth who could intimidate you. Because there wasn’t a person who mattered to you enough for that. Now, the list of people who matter to you just seems to keep growing and it’s all because of the two goofballs in the front seat.

Damn them.

Pretty soon, you’re pulling into the driveway of a little house. The boys begin to get out and you follow suit, rounding the front of the car as they stand and stretch their legs. You’re looking at the house’s front door, fidgeting slightly, and Dean looks down at you quizzically.

“You alright?” He asks.

Your eyes dart quickly to look at him and you nod subtly.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” You say.

He looks at his brother, then back to you, and then a knowing smile grows on his face.

“Are you… nervous?” He asks you cheekily.

“No.” You answer back, just a little too defensively.

The boys exchange grins once more, and you glare at them.

“Oh, shut up, both of you.” You say.

Sam chuckles and starts toward Jody’s house, but Dean continues looking down at you.

You roll your eyes at him in embarrassment.

“I know it’s stupid, trust me.” You murmur.

He exhales a chuckle and shakes his head.

“I don’t think it’s stupid, darlin’. Honestly? I think it’s god damn adorable.” He drawls.

You can’t fight the smile that tugs at your lips at that.

“But don’t be nervous.” He states, “If anything, Sammy and I are the ones who should be nervous. Jody’s gonna wonder what the Hell an awesome chick like you is doin’ slummin’ it with us.”

You roll your eyes again, this time to fight the flushing of your cheeks. He grins down at you once more.

“C’mon, Gorgeous.”

He nods toward the door before he begins his bow-legged swagger in that direction. You follow behind him and see Jody opening the front door before Sam’s even reached it. Her face beams when she sees him, stepping out of the house to wrap her arms around him tightly when he reaches her.

You and Dean make it to them just a few seconds later, and her grin never fades as she turns her attention from Sam to Dean.

“Well, well, looky who the cat dragged in.” She jests, placing a hand on her hip.

“Hey, Jody.” Dean rasps, his own smile rivaling hers.

She gets on her toes to hug him thoroughly, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing him tight. He hugs her back, and you suddenly realize you’ll never get sick of watching Dean hug the people he loves.

She pats him on the back before they pull away, and before they’ve even let go completely, her eyes are on you. You smile at her, and Dean clears his throat to introduce you.

“Jody… this is Y/N.”

“Howdy, Sheriff.” You say with a nod.

She continues looking at you for a few more seconds before her smile grows again. She steps toward you and reaches a confident hand out, and you take it immediately.

“Hi, Y/N.” She answers, her gaze reassuring and strong.

The way she’s looking at you is saying so many things without actually saying them at all. She’s admiring you, and you’re suddenly wondering just how many things the boys have already told her about you. You match her gaze, knowing there’s plenty to admire about her, too.

“Girls here?” Sam asks casually.

“Nope.” Jody answer, letting go of your hand. “Alex is on a camping trip with a few of her girlfriends and I convinced Claire to join them. She wasn’t very happy about it but the girl has GOT to make some friends.”

The boys chuckle and she eyes them happily.

“Which just means more food for the two of you. So I hope you’re hungry.” She says.

Dean’s calm demeanor immediately disappears, a look of unbridled excitement replacing it.

“Always.” He states emphatically.

Jody chuckles, “Well, great, chicken’s almost ready.”

“Yes!” Dean exclaims like a little kid as he and Sam hurry into the house.

You laugh at him, your sparkling eyes admiring him as he scrambles inside. It’s then that you see Jody looking at you, catching you as you swoon over Dean. She grins at you.

“That means you, too, Y/N.” She says. “Get in there.”

You grin at her, walking past her and following the boys into her house.

The next couple hours feel almost like a dream. Inside the house feels so homey that it’s foreign to you. The home cooked meal is delicious and sitting around a real dining room table in a real dining room with real plates and silverware and glasses is so strange, but in the most comforting way. You laugh watching the boys shovel Jody’s cooking into their mouths, and Jody watches them like a proud parent while somehow making fun of them at the same time. The three of them are reminiscing and joking and telling you stories about how they met and hunts they’ve shared since. Throughout the meal, Dean’s throwing you playful winks and smirks and brushing his hands and knuckles against your own, and you can tell Jody’s picking up on it. You join in the conversation, telling Jody some of your own stories about the boys and effectively making her crack up at them. You get into your usual rhythm with them, bantering back and forth and easily shutting them down with one-liners and confident little smirks, for which you notice Jody admiring you further. You don’t talk much about yourself or your story, and Jody doesn’t ask many personal questions, which you’re grateful for. When it’s clear that everyone’s done, you stand and start to grab plates, deciding that you’ll clean up as a thank you to Jody for welcoming you.

“Oh, uh-uh!” She says shaking her head, “I don’t think so. Sit down.”

You raise your eyebrows at her, surprised by her sudden sternness. But then, she grins again and looks at the boys.

“Get to work, fellas, you know the drill.”

They both groan subtly, but they stand and begin clearing off the table. You look at them, then back to Jody, and she winks at you and nods to your seat.

“Seriously, have a seat! You’re the guest, Y/N. These two can handle it. Besides! It’s time for some girl chat anyway, right?” She grabs the mostly empty bottle of red wine and tops off your glass.

Oh great. Here come the personal questions you thought you’d escaped.

“So,” She starts, looking at you thoughtfully, “You’re the one.”

“The what?” You ask, laughing a little.

She raises her eyebrows and sits up a little.

“The one who can make Dean Winchester smile like THAT.” She nods into the kitchen, and you see Dean grinning brilliantly as he and his brother begin washing dishes.

You can’t help but smile to yourself, feeling your cheeks grow warm. No matter how much time passes or what you go through, the man can still make you blush like you’ve just met him.

“Yeah, well, he certainly returns the favor.” You say, looking back at her. “Besides, the two of them smiled pretty damn big when they saw you today, too.”

She laughs, “Ah, that’s just because they knew I’d have a home cooked meal waiting for ‘em.”

“Which was delicious, by the way.” You answer, raising your glass to her before taking a sip.

“Well, thank you. You’re welcome here for a meal anytime you want, Y/N.”

Your heart swells a little hearing that, and you shoot her an appreciative look.

“Seriously, though,” You say, a little embarrassed, “I was actually a little nervous coming here today. I, uh, I wanted you to like me.”

She looks at you incredulously, and you go on.

“They just say such great things about you.” You explain. “You should hear them.”

She laughs and nods, looking down at her glass and then looking back at you.

“Well that’s funny, because I was going to say the same thing to you.”

You look at her curiously, and she clarifies.

“Those two knuckleheads absolutely adore you, Y/N. Seriously, I mean, for a little while there I thought you couldn’t possibly even be real with the way they talked about you.”

You blush again, and she keeps going.

“They DIDN’T, however, mention how easily you put them in their place.” She smirks, “I like that.”

You laugh, raising your glass toward her again.

“Well, you certainly do that, too. So, cheers to putting the mighty Winchesters in their place.”

She grins, raising her glass to yours and then sipping her wine, watching you carefully as she does.

“So, the Devil, huh?” She asks, another smile playing at her lips.

You chuckle, rolling your eyes.

“Oh no, lemme guess,” You say, “Those two also talked me up and told you stories that made me seem like-"

"Like Superwoman?" She smirks, raising her eyebrows at you.

“I am far from Superwoman.” You say.

“Oh really?” She asks, “So you DIDN’T beat the Devil pretty much single-handedly?”

You pause before answering.

“Well, I guess, but-"

“And you DON’T show them up every hunt by kicking even more monster butt than they do?”

“Well, I mean-"

“And,” She says, “You HAVEN’T risked your life over and over again to save both of theirs?”

You sigh, breathing out a small chuckle.

“Yeah, I guess I have, but-"

“Oh, no, that’s right,” She persists, “You’ve actually GIVEN your life to save both of theirs.”

Her voice is playful, but there’s an obvious gratitude in her eyes as she says it. There’s a brief silence between the two of you as you silently acknowledge her quiet thank you.

“Yeah, well, trust me…” You respond, “They have saved mine in bigger ways than I could ever repay them for.”

You surprise even yourself with how much emotion is in your voice when you say that. She smiles again, and this time it’s kind, sympathetic.

“Yeah…” She says quietly, “I’ve also heard you’re a tough cookie in general. And the toughest ones are always that way because they had to be.”

She isn’t pushing or prying in the least, and yet the way she looks at you makes you feel so safe that you actually want to open up to her. Why the Hell does this keep happening to you?

“Yeah, well, you know how it is.” You state, taking a sip before going on, “Dead dad. Shitty step-dad. Monsters suck, but bad people can really mess you up, too.” You feel suddenly insecure for opening up, and you clear your throat. “I mean, I’m not sure what the guys have told you about that.”

She shakes her head.

“Nothing specific.” She assures. “But… I am a cop. So, unfortunately, when it comes to bad humans and what they can do, I have seen a lot. So I can imagine. I’m so sorry.”

She looks so genuine as she talks, the empathy radiating off of her. And yet, she doesn’t look like she’s pitying you, doesn’t make you feel like a victim. She just makes you feel heard. Either she had some damn good cop training, or she’s just a damn good person. And the more you’re around her, you’re deciding it’s the latter.

You shake your head.

“No, it’s okay.” You say genuinely. “It was a long time ago. And, yeah, there’ve been a Hell of a lot of other awful things since then, but…” You look into the kitchen at the boys again. “But lately, the good’s finally been outweighing the awful.”

She smiles at you and puts her elbow on the table, resting her chin on her palm and gazing into the kitchen with you.

“Yeah, I’d agree there’s a whole lotta good standing in that kitchen right now.” She says, before looking at you again. “And I can tell there’s a whole lotta good sitting next to me at this table, too.”

You look back at her in surprise, wondering what you could’ve possibly done in this short conversation to prove that to her already. But she answers your question without you even needing to ask it.

She leans forward, grins, and whispers, “Call it a cop’s instinct.”

You smile at her and she winks back before standing and heading toward the kitchen.

“Alright, who wants dessert?” She asks.

Dean’s eyes light up as he finishes drying the last plate.

“Oh, PLEASE tell me it’s pie!” He exclaims, and you laugh to yourself.

It is, in fact, pie.

The boys return to the table with you, and Dean sits close to you, his big hand squeezing your knee underneath the table as he looks over at you adoringly. You smirk and wink at him, and his eyes light up all over again as Jody brings the pie out to the table and begins cutting it.

Over dessert, the four of you finally discuss the case that Jody has for you.

“So, what do we got?” Dean asks around a mouthful of his third slice.

“Five dead, so far.” She says. “But six victims total. Three couples. Stories have all been almost identical. Both husband and wife tortured and killed in their own homes. Except in the last case, the wife survived. Just barely.”

“Sounds awful, Jody, but uh… could just be a regular serial, right? How do we know it’s our kind of thing?” Sam asks.

“Because,” Jody answers, “The surviving victim SWEARS it was her husband who tortured her. Except, her REAL husband had been tortured and killed in the next room before she even got home from work. His time of death was hours earlier. So, it couldn’t have been him who tortured her.”

You watch both Sam and Dean raise their eyebrows at that, and Jody goes on.

“And we got DNA evidence back on all the weapons used in each case. And in each case, the only DNA belongs to the victims. No third set of DNA. And in each case, husband’s time of death is before the wife’s.”

You take a deep breath.

“So, are we thinking demon?” You ask, “Tortures and kills the husband, then possesses him long enough to do the same to the wife before smoking out and leaving them both?”

Both Sam and Dean nod in agreement, but Jody shakes her head.

“I don’t think so.” She murmurs. “I mean, I’m no professional like you guys, but… at the last crime scene we found something very weird outside the victims’ house. It was like… this slimy pile of goo made out of skin and blood and teeth. When we tested it, that DNA also matched the dead husband. Tell me if I’m wrong but I’ve never heard of a demon leaving something like that behind.”

Dean stops chewing slowly, dropping his fork to his plate with a disgusted look on his face. He swallows hard, looking at you and Sam and sharing reluctant – but knowing – looks with the both of you.

“Gross.” He finally murmurs. “I hate shifters.”

“Shifter?” Jody asks.

“Uh, shapeshifter.” Sam explains. “They can take the form of anyone they want in seconds. And they leave a nasty pile of goo behind whenever they shift.”

“Oh, great.” Jody responds sarcastically. “So our perp can be anyone.”

“Yeah.” Sam sighs, before looking at Dean. “Hey, this almost sounds like that case we worked years back, remember? Shifter pretending to be a woman’s boyfriend or husband and then torturing her?”

“Yeah, except that son of a bitch is dead, remember? I ganked him myself. And I damn sure wouldn’t forget shooting MYSELF in the chest.”

“Wait, yourself?” You ask, realizing you don’t recall hearing this story.

“Yeah. Bastard stole my look.” Dean shudders and grimaces. “It was friggin’ awful.”

“Okay, so it can’t be the same one.” Sam says. “But it still isn’t surprising that another one would be doing something similar. Shifters can be born to human parents who usually end up scared of their own kid and consider them freaks of nature. Pretty much every shifter we’ve met resents humans because of it.”

“Well, this oughta be fun.” You say with a smirk. “I haven’t killed a shifter in years. And this one sounds like he’s got some serious karma coming.”

“You gonna be that karma, Sweetheart?” Dean asks you, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“I usually am, aren’t I?” You ask playfully.

His green eyes look at you, enraptured, for a few seconds before you turn to look at Jody.

“Happy to help, Sheriff. Whatever you need.” You say with a smile.

She grins back, before glaring at the boys.

“What the Hell took you two so long to find her, huh?” She admonishes teasingly.

Dean grins at you, his eyes admiring you again before he drawls out, “I always ask myself the same damn thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
